Dutch Masta k**a - Cuts to the Gut lyrics

[Intro: Buddha Monk, (Shorty sh** Stain)] Yea, aight, yo We just gon' shut all these mothaf**as up (For all y'all gangsta mothaf**as) Yea, that sh** [Shorty sh** Stain of Brooklyn Zu] It wasn't my fault you came outside without ya strap on Tryin to get yo mack on and n***as took oath of possession Should've rolled deep, get crooked by n***as I creap And catch ya when ya least expect, the hard head For those livin trife, it cuts like a knife Who choose to play dice, who choose to play dice It's that, this one is a money maker My album took that taker, I see ya n***a money and he stashin I caught that n***a and I had to quick react And blast quick, n***a tried to front, he gonna laugh at This type of style is hardcore, n***a tried to front When he WHAT? WHAT? Move on him, WHAT? But I'ma hit him with my utmost sh** If ya can't bring d**h, then ya can't represent [Chorus: Buddha Monk] Deadly is the slang from the Brooklyn Zu When we comin thru ya town, what ya n***as gonna do? [Dutch Masta k**a] Never carried steal, before ya got that deal But now ya wouldn't have got it, so now ya puffin chronic Two heads of drakness comin forth, there is many Blind once or twice, then those heads become pennys My swing is more deadly than a shot from yo gun You see I swung once, but really I swung fourth Just be by yo vision, now yo sh**'s on the floor sh** like that, ya can't face with plasta Sent n***as back cuz I am the Dutch Masta k** or pylon wack-a** styles in the mud Minds deep in heart, this is gold wit yo gut It's understood, oh he be someone you can't see And that someone is me, too deep for you to believe ]From the day of yo birth till ya ride in the hurse There's nothin that happens that could've been worse Let me free, atom bomb will be the final sequel Which all men are cremated equal [Buddha Monk] Never war, come back on four tracks n***as wanna test the Bees, ya must be wack Never more, actual fact Comin thru with the k**a Bees attack My sword has the power to devour in any hour Slang cuts ya brains, now ya veins only hang Matter of sense, so I inflict the k**a hits Dirty will a**ist with this mix, breaks mad sh** There's is no crew that can test the 1-12 crew Don't let me go SUU!, k**a Bees comin thru Break the war with the great and it k**s with the slicin I come with mad sins, I'm the happy man again Come into my realm and I k** like the lizard palm Can't prevail with the tails, now ya mind dwells Into a dimension, no facts, only fiction Who's sent to this train has three sixes on their skin [Dutch Masta k**a] BLOAW! Little hare was good, was dippy The wild-a** hippy who always packed the heater Lived the good life, was praised around, the hood life He ran with his man from the second floor Livin happy, puffin on the staircase wall Greedy had a younger brotha, they both lived with motha Motha had no fatha, they both held each otha And prayed for the otha, Greedy saw the seat Never knew the feat, at nite he would creap Was still packin heat, the planned to catch a digga Greedy caught the hiccups, one, two more, three But Nosey got away, the eighty-fiver man Yea, he still strayed away, the clean Eddie faked it No icepick or fist, Glock or tech-nine He contemplated this, caught in the shootout His man wanted his boot out, he was caught in a trance He has his mask, laid out past dawn, now momma's grave missed [Outro: Dutch Masta k**a, (ODB)] Comin at 'cha from every type of angle Ya know k**a Bees represent the Bronx Queens, Manhatten, all over this world The east coast, straight and down Straight out of Clark's And all over everywhere Medina Warriors (I love to hear the Bees!)