Angie Martinez - Live From The Streets lyrics

(feat. Beanie Sigel, Brett, Kool G. Rap,The LOX) [unknown singer] Ohhhhh.. senorita.. when the evening sun go down I come to.. serenade you.. from another part, of town [car tires peeling out] [Angie Martinez] Let's get it on it's Angie Mar' reportin live from the streets From Y.O. to Philly and Harlem to Q.B. When it drops it's game over, you'll see Introducing, Jadakiss and Styles P, where you at? [The L.O.X.] Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo You know we still in the hood dog, in front of the store With the work across the street and the gun in the stall Soon as somethin happen n***az wanna run to the law You know the code of the streets, never run to the law That's why I can't even run 'less I run with a four or I walk with a three, come and talk to 'em P You can catch me down bottom with a bird and a glock On the block makin money where they murder a lot Or you can catch me up top shootin dice for a yard I'm talkin six digits, n***az bet the house or the car You can catch me hittin the spliff, sick in the pit On the fiend like I'm missin my sh**, they think I'm crazy Catch me hittin your lady in my Mercedes Bird on your baby, f** you I'm keepin it gravy L.O.X. hold the hammers like we waitin for screws With Angie Mar' BLOWIN MOTHERfu*kERS OUT OF THEY SHOES, WHAT? [Angie Martinez] Comin live from the streets where some died tryin to eat From Y.O. to Philly, from Harlem to Q.B. And when it drops, game over, you'll see Introducin, Beanie Sigel, tell me how you livin? [Beanie Sigel] Aiyyo, I've been kickin murder - since Adidas with thick strings T.I. sweatsuits, Pumas with thick chains Four finger rings, black belts with bra** names I was spittin flames since n***az was pitchin change I'm a hard knock kiddo, always played the middle Threw flacks in the crack game, getchu if I can getchu Since a buck, played the highway, dodgin the troop boys Jumpin in and out of Coupes, wavin for Duke boys Always chased a penny, copped quarter waters Tried to make a dollar chased my pop's boss daughters Tryin to make my name, global, in all four corners Philly baller, gamin in all four quarters Never worked, never will - all my hoes buy my clothes I can't go broke, never will - all my bros buy my O's I'm the best thing that linked up with New York since Sprewell I murder, nuttin further - fill in the details [Brett] I'm here, it's over, f** how y'all feel When I drop, y'all gon' realize it's all real Bein left for dead, tied up, smoke 'til I was dried up So high up, seem like the sky ducked, high what? Life was rough, but now it's nothin to hide Used to click and be quick to put this gun to yo' side Be like, "That chain nice - I like that pal. Matter fact {*click click*} I'd like that now." You've got game? Call the name, just spell the name right Brett, one of the best rappers ever to touch a mic It's prophecized I'd write, spit scriptures mind blowin 'til my coffin top close and heaven skies open Fear no man's my slogan, I hope y'all believe I'm just like you, fear nuttin human that bleeds My mind breed two movies, six ab-lums, a hundred poems Thirty R&B joints, I'm beyond the norm, y'all just mad I'm just glad, got my time to shine Y'all the type to hit three hundred bars and run out of rhymes [Angie Martinez] Brett, from my ByStorm family, with Angie Come live from the streets, from Harlem to Q.B. And when it drops, game over, you'll see Introducin, finally, the legendary Kool G. [Kool G. Rap] It's B.G.S. kid so what you facin? Caps racin Decapitation twenty buck-fifties and lacerations Guerilla fam' camouflaged out in the gra** waitin to bla** your nation slash like Jason and bash your face in We a** lacin top bodies and half in the basement Our style, cast you so bad you'll need plastic replacement When gats is raised in, fascination blastin and blazin Evacuation for your whole staff there's gas in the tank and Gets back abrasions from cap grazin, defy gravitation Pull my sh** back squeeze bust it like masturbation Hold fort, hold the blow torch, leave your soul scorched with no remorse, the state of New York, get your sh** caught When n***az hawk, let the fifth talk So tell me who's the next man to flip? I stop the beef sh**, with rubber handled grips Your candle get lit, guerilla sh** feed us banana clips The hammers hit, anything in our range we dismantle it [Angie Martinez] Like to say thanks to my street correspondents, for gettin on this Comin live and direct with no nonsense Sorry folks for hurtin y'all, the previous has been brought to you by "Up Close and Personal"