|
Royal Fam - Musical Chairs lyrics
f/ Stoneface, Prodigal Sunn, Hell Razah [ Stoneface ] Yo, we be buggin out in the upper house If a brother need bail, I'ma get my brother out Fuck me - rub em out, duck me - run em out Meet me, catch up, gun em out, caught by runnin mouth Everyone go, even a hoe that tried to kick it when I entered When I said I be bangin that shit, I meant it Got in the wrong business, bangin ya Split like Moses did Hydromania Hang in, ya, 1836, I'm hangin ya Dissin me is danger, history 'mains to be Found, and sometimes in my city is poverty Starvin peeps, drugs and a lotta heat Beef and a lotta grief - all that Cried cause I was hungry, what you call that? I call it survival, counts the ends Soaked sins in the Bible, my soldier's title They say, "Oh God, forgive, life's negative" Tell me how you live, what [ Timbo King ] Fuck a club, I rhyme inside a crowded train station The plane I'm on is way beyond aviation My voice alone could start the revolution early The world be, spinnin in my palm Just spinnin in my palm circular, energy, energy Niggas got a tendency to blame it on the Hennessy 100 proof without alcohol involved I slap y'all niggas right in front of Carnegie Hall How you want it, fried or raw We brawl with y'all, 144'000 total in all [ Prodigal Sunn ] Musical holocaust, orchestra course, carry my cross In this bloodsport, Brooklyn, New York, prophecy thoughts He caught a buzz like irons plugged in with a short Guns get bought, we conference and let the money talk If thy right hand offend thee, Timbo, cut it off If today was revolution, would they really set it off? Niggas is soft, frontin for a page in The Source That's why your label took a lost to them items you floss And if I write it, niggas bite it, we gon' fight it in court Nautica cloth, sweatshirt, treaten to earth ???? while recording, bring death to your birth From a Benz to a hease, best friends to the worst [ Hell Razah ] The last verse, pull out the hearse It's the mighty Lion of Zion Intoxicated with iron, another bitch nigga dyin Snitches were lyin, the type of way I like defyin Bitches be eyein, cryin, catch a slug from the blood of the Mayan Carribean, Indian, why we livin in division It's not ???, taste the arrow from the coalition The general rockin a Kangol Figueroa Takin the heads of cobras like Priest said it's over And vintage soldier, blazin a pack of chocolate Mocca Kid, I thought I told ya, now witness the flame of Jehova |
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 All the Way by Calloway |
 The Dangermen Sessions, Vol. 1 by Madness |
 Reality Check by Juvenile |
 Zakiya by Zakiya |
 Twenty Four Seven by Tina Turner |
