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Shyheim

21st Century Crisis

  hip-hop  wu-tang  rap  new york  wu fam
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Текст песни Shyheim - 21st Century Crisis

Shyheim - 21st Century Crisis слова песни

[Intro: Shyheim]Flick up your lighters (yeah, uh)Flick up your lighters (yeah, yeah, yeah, come on, Bottom Up! yeah)Flick up your lighters (Ay, 2Pac already told y`all moron)Who got beef, I`m just here to reinform my shitYou know, you done did Big, you done did Craig MackMan, you did Shyheim (New York, New York) You did the kidThat`s how we gon` do it, we gon` this real cleverFrom the Staten Island connection, oh[Chorus: Shyheim]I`m the 21st Century Crisis, run with two five-to-lifersThat buck at bikers, get booked on Riker`sI`m the 21st Century Crisis, I`m a fighterFlick up your lighters, for your niggaWith bigger website, despite usI`m the 21st Century Crisis, run with two five-to-lifersThat buck at bikers, get booked on Riker`s21st Century Crisis, I`m a fighterFlick up your lighters, my nigga[Shyheim]I`m street intelligentPuffin` that drink with Lazanet, that get an elephantGet out of line, like them little kid, colorin`I body your ass, then bury your ass, then dig youBack the fuck up, and shoot up your skeletonsFor talkin` all that jazz, like you Duke EllingtonI melt your shit, like when Sundew, people with no melenninShy, the 21st Century Crisis, spittin` shitAnd piss on rappers, like they C.O.`s on Riker`sDeath arrive, the last face you`ll ever see is Shy`sAnd my hand`s wrapped around more necks than Armani tiesCame through in the M-5, tinted and kittedThe color of spinach, with Monica and Mya in itI inspired, The Boy Is Mine RemixAnd the begets on my wrists be the size of Cheez-It`sI`ve been gettin` it, ever since I could rememberThat`s why I post a million dollar bail like BarettaI crush your mic, I crush your mic twiceI move like Saddam, I got twenty look-a-likesWear twenty different color Nike`sI`m like Ghost, I keep a bird on my arm flooded with ice[Chorus][Interlude: Shyheim]Yeah, flick up your lightersIt`s Bottom Up, nigga[Shyheim]I bust your head open, with an 40 ounce of Old EnglishThen be thinkin` to myself, I could of, should of drinked itAs a man think of inner thoughtsSo he in, deep inside your pudding, you don`t want it with kidWho got it on with the dogs, and every jail of my bidHad a scalpal put up my ass, not on no faggot shitTwenty one guns a year, that`s what my average isAnd I ain`t gon` quit, until you get my enemiesThe what? Out the whip, I`m the dude that they love to hateHate that they love, with too much street dramaTo be in somebody`s club, so I`m cautiousCuz I know shit that get funky, just like horse shitLike I could be dead or in jail, by the morningAll everybody else`ll be doing is talkingAbout the unfortunate, let a couple years fly byEverybody forget, it`s like you gone in the windYou going to the pen, but y`all don`t hear me thoughLet me say the shit again, like you gone in the windYou going to the pen, twenty years will make a friendOne day to lose a friend, that`s why I speak less and listen more[Chorus][Outro: Shyheim]Flick up your lighters, flick up your lightersI`m the 21st Century Crisis, and that meansMan, I`m bringing it back to New YorkStaten Island, New York (put ten years on this beat)Brooklyn, Queens, The Bronx, Manhattan, Uptown (cock that shit)You know takin` my early days, let`s take this shit backNew York, New York, that`s where I`m from

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