Added: Sep 5, 2010
From: damirtennis
Duration: 4:45
Album: Digi SnacksYear: 2008Track: 11Track Produced By: King TechSamples: NoneLyrics:[Chorus 1: Thea]Creep, creep, creepCatch them while they sleepEmpty every shell from your clipKnock them off their feet[Crisis:]These streets that we maneuver through, ain't nothing you familiar tooDon't talk it out, noodle you, walk it out at your funeralCold blooded, black hearted, Black Knight and Black Ballin'Black Christmas, be all in your crib with my killas callingEven if you ain't street, then we creepin', it ain't no secretDelete you with big toast, that roast you when it heat yaOff whiskey, pop up and bong that xxx like Bob DigiCrisis the Sharpshooter, I'm a lay 'em down gentlyOne shot, guns pop, in the streets of CamelotThat's why some keep they xxxx on safety, others keep they hammers cockedReady to blow, ready to go, fire in the holeAnd if a nigga ready to retire, we retiring his soul[Chorus 1][Christbearer:]Aiyo, I woke up hungry every day (every day)Til I learn to do the hustle, every which and every wayA couple niggas hit the Chevy with the KAnd the candy apple tray, it gets heavy in L.A.When Track died, Mack criedOnce we start banging again, then he did a back slideI was in tune with the sun, star, moonEddie shot up thirty niggas, in the bar, over JuneThe city's full of CripsAK's, four-fives, mac-11's, full of clips (Long Beach)Young hogs with they pockets full of chipsIf any, not many, academic scholarships[Doc Doom:]Pulp Fiction, driving in your car without permissionWith a video vixen, giving me head like Bill ClintonGot a drug addiction, pop pills with no prescriptionStuck in the rehab, the only man with bad intentionsTruly, I'm the one the West is really missingYour xxxx is garbo', I kill you off with one sentenceThe rap apprentice, with a little sack of new inventionsDon't listen, and I Jimmy off your head like a Henchman[Chorus 1][Chorus 2: Thea]Squeeze, squeeze, squeezeMake them Swiss cheeseEmpty every shell from your clipKnock them off their feet[RZA:]You wanna feel the heat? I pull the flame outMake a wish, boy, blow your brains outWatch me step out the cribby, with the heavy chain outLeaving blood on your shirt, you can't get the stain outIn a big body truck, my hair, knotty as a f**kShotty tucked under the seat, plus a hottie in the truckGet these wizes, get these digits, get my ninjas back in businessAll you suckas, get the scissorsYou don't work like you broke and keep AK's like I'm OaklandI be, making that dough, like the Pillsbury DoughmanBobby, covered in ice, like it's Frosty the SnowmanYou suckas is useless like old New York tokensFront on the Bobby D, watch how your body bleedYou ain't worth the weight of a grain, from a poppy seedMake your brain rupture, decompose your frame structureMC's tremble when they hear the name of usPuffin' Eastwood stogies, swinging Tiger Woods bogeysThe mic is my co-d, the pen is a paroleeNo jail cell can hold me, Zodiac can't describe meKing Tech scratch the beat, like he caught poison ivy[Monk:]Compton's where you can find me in the hood, so grimyRun laps on these tracks, it's a fact, you can time meReady, set, go, I let the, tech blowRugged Monk, kill a track at any, tempoIt's simple, We Usually Take All Niggas GarmentsSpot rush them busters, blockade they apartmentIt's over, foreclosure, your xxxx is shut downCreep when you sleep and squeeze the four pound[Chorus 1][Chorus 2]
Channel: Music
Tags: rza black knights dexter wiggles north star thea van seijen creep
Rating: 5.0' max='5' min='1' numRaters='4' rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#overall ( ratings) Views: 1808 Comments: 0
