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Shyheim f Infamous Bluesteele, Method Ma

Am I My Brother`s Keeper?

230 3 часа назад

Текст песни Shyheim f Infamous Bluesteele, Method Ma - Am I My Brother`s Keeper?

Shyheim f Infamous Bluesteele, Method Ma - Am I My Brother`s Keeper? слова песни

[Intro: Method Man]Eh yo, eh yo, eh yoYo, yo, yoMy son want his back, fuck that (my shine is beautiful)It`s time right now, you know?It`s like we ain`t fuckin with no lame ass niggas no moreBein bullshit by bullshit niggas (for real)[Method Man]Am I my brother`s keeper?Theres no need to ask, I`m the creeperMillion dollar man, Johnny CashPuff the reefer, sometimes mix it with the hashHard to keep up, 100 yards dash, beat your feet upJumpin Jack Flash on a muthafuckas assCaught `em in the weed stash tryin to tap the bagNow he suspect, read him his rights, it`s only rightI never, never, never in my long-legged lifeEver bite like shark niggas, got an appetitefor destruction, lusting for dough, it`s disgustingDisgraceful, end of disscusion, this tastefulLike cyanide erase you, pull up, let me take twoCome all you faithful, Meth and ShyheimTommy Hilfiger, that I`m a Johnny `field niggaTill I die, S.I.N.Y. testifyGirlfriend sweating my game, killing my high[Shyheim]I`m a 100 proof, like Smirnoff blue labelI`m so wild, got housearrest bracelets on each ankleI break you, something fatal and make New Jersey trade youYou don`t got game, so niggas don`t playa-hate youCome back to Brooklyn, the ya G`s goneChase you up, batted in dun, dunNike won`t endorse you so you rock an And-1I pull out the M-1 and hit you handsomecuz you forcin it, you can hang it up like an ornamentEnd your actin career, put you back in street tournamentsRun for your life, like you doing suicidesWhen even use your scrub ass, Live `9-9[Chorus 2X: Shyheim]Am I my brother`s keeper?There`s no need to askI ride for my brothers, give me the gun and the maskWe be in the bushes like The Down Low stashPop up like a warrant, let off on that ass[Infamous Bluesteele]Yo..Y`all could catch the player Inf` way beyond calmSharp and on bomb chron, rockin my Sean JohnCopin the bomb chron from Sharon on the quanGot me chinky-eyed like a Hong Kong donFire arm palm, cock back cautionAlarm for the chumps, boy what you think you gon` palm with my charmsBetter pay attention to the harm in my palm and it`s fully-loadedIf I said it, could he hold it?but once he seen the gun I said, "son, look he bolted"Son, look he noted, the Berrettas`ll shever, but he was cleverHe stopped screwing and he blew in his vendettasHis crew was in to leathers, Avirex and gunsSome of them was smart but I could say the rest was dumbSo I played the vest for dumb and saved the checks for dumbcuz they hard-head niggas who graze and steadily cometo be leakin something, you could care for speakinfrontin bout shit they stick, instead of zip they lipThey was young niggas, you know the young dumb niggasWho don`t care how they get it as it come, nigga*fades*[sample]*old school party music playing and fades*Hey, hey...Are you that little guy makin all that big noise?*sounds of mad ass dog and man screaming*

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