Carlos "6 July" Broady - Street Hop lyrics

[Woman talking] Nickel The M.I.C. b**h (Statik) You show off Verse one [Verse One] I've been a monster b**h My sh** been bonkers The flow been conquered Hoes I been pompous (Smash Squad) I've been conceited but I don't run with 5-0 I haven't been shot up either and I ain't from Chicago When I enter the center stage the show's over Minutes later the floor is frozen, a Rolls, rolls up I'm demonstratin' a coke flow but I'm so sober The original +Renegade+ before Hova They like, "Damn, why ain't Dre ever get him? He seem like so much anger and pain represent him." Eminem himself will tell you I'm the only n***a livin' That done ever spanked him on the same record with him Your man's gettin' jealous Cause what I'm spittin' is sicker than his single He got to think of a dance just to sell it This is street hop to the fullest To them real n***as out there on the corner beat boxin' with bullets n***as that be trigger packin' Pop lockin' with Glocks Could aim well enough to shoot the zippers off your Thriller jacket Me, I'm the illest rapper Since every rapper k**in' From here on out, you can call me Shottie The k**er Capper These record labels just manufacture sh** Like the pimp game homie, I'm here to snatch yo b**h Got a fist game on me that ain't an afro pick Try that ying yang on me, I'll handy cap you quick [Woman speaking] Verse two [Verse Two] Usually I play the two or three I been ballin' b**h, losin' me is like the Piston's losin' Ben Wallace I'm to Detroit like what Souljah Slim is to Chopper City So losin' me is like musically losin' Pac or Biggie I'll be your a**, leave you with your mouth piece wired Losin' pounds in the hospital, be quiet Til you finally come up out that coma, boney Lookin' like somebody put you on the South Beach Diet If you hearin' me spit it, it's soundin' like the king died Trippin' when I kick it, it's soundin' like my strings tied I put the clip in and pull it And woof Woof Listen, the pistol is soundin' like Hakeem's bride And you don't wanna beef n***a cause my arm's be All through Cali and Miami like a palm tree My crew be In New York or New Jerz usually With tools to recognize you as who is you? Excuse me You don't wanna fool with the etiquette or the Uzi I'll put you in the credits that's at the end of the movie I pity your mother She never seen you in a magazine For the obituary I give you the cover (Smash squad) So when I'm rhymin' with ya I'm Ving Rhames of the pimp game I play the same role as Tiny Lister Again and again The Debo of the type cast When I TiVo the mag they be showin' the white flag So sit at the table and get it like it's digital cable I torture you into talkin' to me till it get's fatal f** with you till I put you out of your misery With a silence or I'mma just muffle it up with a potato [Scratch Outro] "This is street hop" - Nas 'Made You Look' DJ Premier on the cut "Six July" on the beat