Andre Nickatina - Hell's Kitchen (feat. Saafir) lyrics

"My line of work is considered by some to be a... A tumor on society, be careful Mr. Magenta there are benign tumors And there are others, that are very malignant..." (Saafir) Ay-ay, Ay-ay (Saaf Bizzle) Ay-ay, Ay-ay (Saaf Bizzle, Nickatina) Yo Mothaf**a in here with some real Nickatine man... (Andre Nickatina) When the gat would hit, then the rhyme would spit Gun nailed you to the crucifix I ain't new improved man I'm true to this Ain't nothin you can do to this Chicken beg, mislead, caught a shot to the head Instead we get high as a mothaf**in n***a yeah wit no dreads, no dreads I get to plugging that, who Thuggin that Gotta go drop a bug in that Post up where the d** is at Yeah mothaf**a where the lovin at My computer brain is on high octane Ripping like a rocket man Block it try to stop it man You'll end up in my pocket man Bust like a bullet in a watermelon What's the CD there you're selling Better not be mine or mothaf**a you gon' start to yelling Fillmore rap academy, Bustin right at your sanity Ammo and artillery, clock a major salary Charge just like a battery, for a**ault and battery Dead just like a battery, from this major battery (Saafir) I bang that West Oakland my colors the silver and black Raider n***a got his stripes from the barber shop where the filmed "The Mack" n***a I got them rules on my shirt and I'm deep in this game All angles spittin it so n***as don't get it confused with the fame Let me tap that blackness on your eyeball like "What the f** you lookin at?" Then I got to remember, I'm strizzled and sacked and saucy off smack b**h I ain't no contender, I been holding these championship rings Ammunition and big faces mothaf**a I been "Ladeem" n***as on the turf on American soil, gettin this American green n***as hate 'cause I'm skyscraping the small shelf Bull pit cigarettes I promise a hospital harness, to be taken the farthest from this life Nickatine and Saafir, Sizzaline is the farthest on this mic (Andre Nickatina) Walked out of court doin major bragging Bruce Lee down like danger dragon Blue jeans doin some major sagging Freak can bump hard in the station wagon Hot heavy and ready Garlic bread with the spaghetti Do it like Bo-Bo, with a fo-fo Ty fo-fo, Ty fo-fo Write to the gods like it's legendary Some might think its imaginary In the rap game freak I popped the cherry What you gotta say about that Keep it live a 45 number 2 pencil Get my solo wave, for the perfect gangsta instrumental, ya feel me Check it, load me up and then co*k me back Then come right back with the counter rap He's bustin raps till he collapse Or at least until his chest plate crack (Saafir) I ain't one of these b**h a** n***as That ain't from the town that spit what he don't do But I'ma let him bumble a little more then I'ma hip all my n***as to you You lyin about tryna be high that ain't fire that you spittin Purple haze a fake crook get cooked and burnt And baked the f** up in Hell's Kitchen I ain't one of these b**h a** n***as That ain't from the town that spit what he don't do But I'ma let him bumble a little more then I'ma hip all my n***as to you You lyin about tryna be high that ain't fire that you spittin Purple haze a fake crook get cooked and burnt And baked the f** up in Hell's Kitchen I know at his next show he'll be slipping, 'cause his guns ain't clicking He tryna shine like stadium lights I'ma leave this n***a ice dripping With some real heat star 6-70 For a b**h a** Hollywood n***a that wanna become a star that's heavenly It's not hard, you can depend on me Serving n***as like you, I'm the epitome Only difference I don't drink much And mothaf**as get deeply touched That think I give a f** tryna get money But sh** if you gotta get hit I'll dump your face off Have your a** under the Astroturf of some sh** Crack that weak Halloween mask And stab your a** in a pumpkin, I'm dumping West Oakland...Saaf Bizzle... "Finished with the a**ignment, beautiful, excellent work, great work..."