You can't push us around. (You can't push us around!). You can't push us around. (You can't push us around!). You can't push us around. (You can't push us around!).
Orlanda... fat-ass Honda. The homies! The homesssss. Now what we talkin 'bout, yo tell 'em. The homies! Heyyyyy. What we talkin 'bout, everybody lemme hear you say.
This jam I created will leave you devastated. And when I'm finished rockin you will appreciate it. The structure of this rhyme will reign supreme. To have a cut like this is a MC's dream.
Don't get close [x2]. . Fire from the flame from the depths of hell. When I grip the microphone I tend to rock well. Burning like the rays that shoot from the sun.
The way things is looking I'ma see central booking. Eh yo Queens get the money. Ain't trying to see central booking, Oh shit. Dough boy in New York City.
Queens, New York. Flushing shit. (We back again). That's right. Yo. . Sour smoke out the nasal. The Pad Thai noodle topped off with basil. Sistine Chapel rapper, I'm here to blaze you.
[ VERSE 1 ]. South Central. The home of true gangstas. Down for all when I proachin by a stranger. we chill although my girl gets mad at me. She has to understand S.C.C. is family.
[ Havoc ]. Yo, this Havoc the Mouthpiece from the S.C.C.. I only got three words to say:. South - Central - Madness. . [ Prode'je ]. Hoo-ridin in the Central, yeah, the gangsters mob for life.
[ VERSE 1: Prode'je ]. The see-a-are-t-e-l's been here for ages. And ain't not one of them trick-ass radio stations played us. But that didn't fade us because we still gettin it on.
[ VERSE 1: Havikk the Rhime Son ]. Dippin on the enemy I slides like a nigga should. Hands out the window givin it up for the neighborhood. Gangstas and gees servin that ass like the military.
[ VERSE 1: Havikk the Rhime Son ]. I'm high-class, wife got the mink and ( ? ). I'm drinkin Dom Perrignon bathtub all gold. Roll a Lexus with the Rolex on my neck, it's.
[ Rhimeson ]. Can I roll with you?. [ Prode'je ]. Nigga, what can I do?. When I still seem. To day-dream and fiend for green. Cause one plus two, broke muthafuckas, don't equals naythin.
The past is an illusion, there is only now!. The future is a fiction, there is only now!. A brief intermission, there is only now!. Of this there is no question, there is only now!.
The storm is. . [Chorus: x2]. Females better try to trick me now. Cats better try and Out Think Me Now. Stick me now, maybe even kill me now. Let me dominate for two years strong.
When it's over now. Nothing left for the enemy. When the show goes down. And you silence the melody. (That's when you say). I'll be that sound boy inna L.A..
As I take a look down the boulevard. Full of ghetto youth, life is very hard. So many faces bearing the battle scars. But love I bring to the people. Coming straight from the heart.
Like a hard mama work just trying to get by (hey yea). And enough ghetto youth so they still want no get no bly. Just keep on the hustle 'cause we have to stay pon the grind.
[Lord Finesse]. It's Lord Finesse the rhyme vet. Like Bigge I'm "Ready to Die" but it ain't my fucking time yet. I bring the noise like static I cause havoc.
J'ai jamais rêvé d'être un grand rappeur. À vrai dire, ces conneries n'rentrent pas dans mes mœurs. Donc j'suis vraiment désolé d'être meilleur que vous tous.
Bienvenue dans les coins sombres où les mineurs sont dévergondés. Où les rails de coke guident les petits frères qu'ont laissés tomber. Wake up, six du mat', réveil forcé, descente des condés.