7th Amba**ador - This Is 4 My GG'z lyrics

[Chorus: Hell Razah] +This Is 4 My GG'z+, on the corner gettin mad cheese Wide g's, wit them O.Z.'s +This Is 4 My GG'z+, workin hard gotta feed they seeds You either draw blood or you bleed +This Is 4 My GG'z+, up north gettin no v's Workin hard, tryna feed they seeds +This Is 4 My GG'z+, on the corner gettin mad cheese In they crib, blowin mad trees [Hell Razah] I want money for this black Christ portrait Plaques in my office, one phone call, find ya corpse in the coffin I hit like mob bosses, cautious, don't get nauseous, when I record this On a 24-track to a cordless, the way the rhyme shine son, know the courses I'm like Tyson wit no losses, you ain't hot wit that wack chorus Don't get it ga**ed up and die, tourist You out ya orbit, you might catch a nine Taurus Not the horoscope, buff arms are dope, that palm the toast In the streets where it's bombs to cope Young g's stay trippin when they moms is broke Cops got 'em tellin, blocks is too hot for sellin My pop give me a straight shot of Corel 7 Biggie and Pac made me cop another pale seven Before I trust out-of-town felons Under the white clouds of heaven, project dead-ends Of snake friends, hoodies and Timbs Could it be +Grandz+, we used to be, closer than skin I seen s** in the eyes of the un-godly Hotties wit Halle Barry bodies In dark parties, Dark Bacardi, my pen tear apart armies I need paper to back down how it safer Since Diallo tell me how it got safer, hater, hater [Chorus] [Baghdad] You can't be G., I be the key to street prisoners I get it hot and turn fans into air conditioners We can rattle for each other's listener We got heat that will leak through the beek of the police commisioner You ain't light until your darkness, you floss and become a target A gangsta die like it wasn't nothin You know your click don't want no conflict A shotgun under my armpit, I put your mind on the carpet Chocolate, got my brain cookin like an omlette Brooklyn, we be that borough, that you do the song wit I call chicks like Max Julian, the hooligan Bout to blow like Hurricane Floyd, blew me in I use the pen like it was a mack 10 for rappin So I don't like you right now, and I ain't like you back then And that's my word, n***as got a deal off of actin Cuz when I see them on a the real, ain't nothin crackin Cats returnin when they get a job in Manhattan And wonder why the f**in ghetto won't let them back in... All my GG'z on our thrust, let's get money [Chorus] [7th Amba**ador] What I search for, during my days Is the best way outta this maze, without makin myself A early grave, livin life like a runaway slave Who slayed his master, as it was written in the chapters Hell that's sick that by the wicked pastors I roll through this ghetto labryith, for witness to madness Done by the average man and the savage Takin me back through the pa**age, ressurected like Lazarus In this wilderness, it's hazardous to ya health n***as like crabs in a pot that's goin out for they self Or pull a gat off the rack of the shelf, from basically eat And watch you f*ggot n***as sent straight to hell And tell the Devil that my name is Zobadia And flamin fire, the same brother ain't playin no games +Ghetto Government+ campaign, advance brains On the rampage, dim ya lights like a lampshade Dance to ya grave n***a, I hold a gauge why they into or not While the trigger in my pants lay Tear ya face off wit the explosive force wit a hand grenade f** ya fame, this ain't no game [Chorus]