[Beretta 9]
This is for all y'all wanna be
Millitant, Camoflauge (Y'all n***as ain't raw)
Word up, we 'bout to show you how it's done (Word up man)
How to rock the boots (Like this)
The camoflauge (Great damn n***a White)
The guns (The big ones that go..)
[Beretta 9]
Yo, watch for the shrapnel admiral
Didn't know the kid was tactful
My missles whistle at you spactual, subtract you
Surrender all, we got you
Blitzkrieg, fatigues bleed, it's natural
The Army, take out your front line calmly - you like that
Tell the Cap' the kids back the Millitant
My regiment be five percent put Steelo in
k**in these tracks, Beretta on attack
This one for my die-hard n***as, watch yo' back
Or wind up in the graveyard, in Allah tint
Ask the fans, it's the Gods again
And if we got to, then we k** again
"Louie under, we're making another push"
"Get your people together.. lieutenant?"
"I got nothin left"
"Dig a little deeper"
[Superb]
Yo.. Up all night writin darts
Sniffin the pure, Christmas Eve '99 reminiscin and sh**
(Bout) who got hit, (Bout) who got b**h
(Bout) who b**hes that is, who got kids and
Who sell crack, who a rapper now
Who money-washin, who was P.O
Try to get him lockied up but his b**h is C.O
And she gon' tell the captain, he gon' buy him a boat
The cap' gon' tell the judge, he gon' buy him a goat (And)
The judge gon' tell the D.A., he gon' buy him some coke
The D.A. gon' tell his lawyer that his client can go
And, all y'all n***as mad I got the iron from Ghost
And, Chef still cookin what you tryin to get roast
Bobby'll beat that a**, Meth do a show in ya coats
And Cap'll don ya, the Masta will k** ya
You f**in with a true master, f**in with power
You f**in with the Wu ba*tards, f**in with ours
We the most livest, most largest, squadrant
Sergeants in Africa, thugs from America
Live from New York, straight from Florida City
All sh**ty, screamin "Play more Biggie"
Hood like you blowin, per blow more quickly
Still poppin pain that cause four-fifty
I ain't know they was young, I just like short b**hes
[Islord]
Yo, you f**ed up when you crossed my line
I got the nine, pointed at ya back spine
So feel the heat, as I let the lead tear your meat
Cuz I represent the real n***as from the streets
I'm comin trough blackdown, with the fat tre' pound
Strapped, co*ked back
While my right-hand man plays a role in the back
With the mack - Subject to murderous art
As I finesse it and also compose the track like Mozart
This nine'll script, n***as get finked up
In this rap game, it's madly insane
So don't go against the grain, or get your life tooken
With ya head chopped off, placed in a plastic bag
Its Central booking, forever kings
[9th Prince]
Aiyyo I spit verses that'll bury you beneath the surface
A murder this like voodoo curses
9th Prince forever nervous, an*log n***as is short-circuit
k**a be k**as the purpose
Guns in holsters what the earth is, musical apocalypse
Run up on the label, hold the A and R for a hostage
Limps from four-footers who's with it, go 'head spit it
The weed and dust makes me k** sh**, k** sh**...
"The way I see it, we've got two choices"
"We can settle for being slaughtered in the push tomorrow"
"Or we can take those tanks out tonight.."
"If we do it, it's just us"
"We'll slip past the lines unchecked"
"Just another sorry-a** patrol"
"Lemme get this straight"
"Yesterdauy your point was Section 8"
"No"
"You wanna lead some renegade force against their tanks"