Gravediggaz - Running Game On Real lyrics

[Intro: Frukwan] Yo, it's that Brooklyn sh**! Y'all n***as ready? NAAAAAAAH! Y'all ready? YEEEAH! Yo, oh sh** [Chorus: Frukwan] Runnin game on bail A n***a might find it hard walkin alone in a graveyard Runnin game on bail And if ya can't compete I'll leave ya 6 Feet Deep, n***a! [Frukwan] Yo, I be the Pied Piper, enlightener, holy cipher Watch the God strike like a viper Potential energy pumps the mainstream Warn a n***a, crazy enough to return the dust My chrome crushed the image, considered it a mess Jump the C.O., bust the captain, and hop the fence Did manuveur like a cougar, usin night vision Interrogate intruders, rest, puff my Buddha The grand child, father of mad style Battle Gods on file, exiled since I lost the trial Behold, control n***as like croaks, insert dats d**h blow, aim and hit straight to the heart It's a strong wind, n***as is thin as tin strips Immeasureable wealth, campaignin that wack sh** The barriers ready, engaged lock finder Fox 1, launch the sidewinder Gothic hip-hop break, I blast microscopic bars Til it ends communication, only seen through Allah God body, search Darth Khadafi, k**a of Nazis Take heads like Jake DiVia**i Clips of snake venom, toos rock, instructor, destruct Just burnt from lyrical reflux Tramp through decisions, battlin and collisions High speed, still a n***a tryin to breathe, what n***a? [Chorus x4] [Poetic] I come with the k**a Arm-Leg-a-Leg-a-Arm-Head Ready with the bomb threat, f** all of the calm sh** Waitin til the bomb hits, make a n***a vomit Cuz he gave it all when preparin to respond wit My correspondece, only young foes fall as soldiers in the Cold War Powered by solar Always in the trench, intense until I dent The armour of the Devil brigade, slugs are spent And dark rebels invade your tent, with the intent To leave your body bent, I let the shotty vent To lay your chest, penetrate your vest Look for your family traits, as you defecate You're dyin in the stench, nothin can prevent A violent takeover, the modern J. Hova Cannot be tempted by no type payola Colder than the Polar, your bling-bling is over f** all you fake Costra Nostras Grym is a real street soldier, put you in a deep coma Your weak streak is over, finito I sting like 10 million mosquitoes with hypodermic needles [Chorus x4]