Carlos "6 July" Broady - Now Y lyrics

[Intro: La The Darkman] Yeah. Yeah. Yo. Yo Yo. Trapacanti. Yo [Hook: La The Darkman] When I walk these streets, like bamboo, I'm strapped Get your brain tapped by fourty-four caliber gats It ain't like that, cats gotta learn to relax If I let the gun clap, you have no wish, you're on your a** [La The Darkman] If you see at cat without his vest hangin by his neck Then La done it, I'm tryin to see this benz six-hundred With a fly b**h, a gat and cognac gettin blunted Readin the tablet of my money from the kids that I fronted You don't want it, shootin slugs outta an armored green lex ]From four pounds that f** you up like a plane wreck Don't gamble with a tech, car is quicker than the eye My style, top secret like a Bosnian spy Now Y, New York have you laced in chalk The South Bronx, what you thought when we let are guns talk? It's bloodsport, the Darkman call it like he sees Been in buildings, doin eighty in a black m3 Medallion swingin a linx, costin bount ten g's N.Y.C., where k**as bust cops at me [Hook] [La The Darkman] New York ain't f**in playas, we live gun sprayers Movin crack frm the streets of Manhatt' to the Himalayans Amadeus, why these Cali craps tryin to front? Ass gotta cut ropes, tryin to bungee jump Tight c*nt, all white planes roll, we night creepers In bubble coats, eight hundred beapers, force one sneakers I stay fly, holdin it down for my block What up ock? You could get a four-four shot And don't think it can't happen cuz you on the T.V. rappin I sneakin from B.X., B.K. and the Staten Manhatten and Queens jookin kids for rings New York, New York, the big city of dreams Some rap legends were put in jail, you thought we failed Now I'm back like LL, when he was rockin the bells Takin rap back to the days of foodstamps and tramps Pit stains in the stair case and vise-grip clamps Kid, I'm amped, cats try to diss the originators In Land Cruisers, on Timbs, subways and elevators Holdin steel, you frontin n***as better get real I'm gettin money, blow my nose with a hundred dollar bill How you feel? And f** where you at, it's where you from To that cats, that's eighty-five: blind, deaf and dumb Run and get your gun, I come in the name of Allah To my people, the Inglewood family swine, power refined You can't see, we runnin outta time If the east and west k** eachother, who gon' shine? We losin our mind, the rap sh** is turnin into crime Nowadays soft n***as bust techs and nines So, what?