DJ Premier - Itz On lyrics

[Scratches] "N.Y.G." [Verse One: Rave] Ayo we cry freedom Die fighting like G-Men Hate screaming "Leave 'em" Spit off ten, get off of him Lost in a world of talking coffins Getting older Still trying to get over Slide to Dakota Driving a Rover Ears glued to Motorola A feared dude Sign a few posters, keep trucking If I should be so lucky, to die old But a young ho s**ing me, that should be lovely You know, the luxury Could go straight to the brain like the c**aine but none for me sh** I be getting numb from trees Anything else might be wack to god C-Ray f**ing around, smack the god, till I return back to God Back on the job 'Bout to enlarge a barrage of cold/hot bars Straight through y'all n***as Matchbox cars Bet fam' gon' do his job New York G'z be true in the heart [?] vice on po-lice grips Couldn't screw it apart Plus we nice with fifths On some Poor Righteous sh** Getting ready to see [?] Ayo [Hook: Rave] It's on son {x7} I gotta get this money god It's on son {x4} I gotta, gotta play it safe tho' It's on son {x4} I gotta, I gotta get this money god It's on son {x4} I gotta, gotta play it safe tho' "It's on n***a" - Notorious B.I.G Pros and cons. What the f**? It's over [Verse Two: Panchi] To me can you explain, are you entertained by my pain My strife and all the small details of my life? Reincarnated from incarceration Breathing again Hustle better now, less risk is done with a pen So how you want it? Holler These jeans is forty dollars, n***a These ain't Con Art baby, these is Carhartt An army coat, pair of Timbs I'm street smart No hiding behind parked cars and tree bark I'm in the middle of the war making heat spark NYG'z pa, nothing sweet I was down with blazing heat on hazing street Rikkers Island, went through and came home smiling Bidded with mild n***as while the others was wilding Warred with Crips/Bloods, m**ms and gods Got it on with the Latin Kings and [?] I played the sponge, soaked j**els for real that's important And keep Saturday Night's Live like Tracey Morgan Ya odds is like 93,000,000 to 1 Cause you like 93,000,000 miles from son/sun [Hook] [Verse Two: Shabeeno] Ayo it's on son Year Round, we bout to tear it down (And the Best Rap Album...{NYG'Z!}) I can hear it now Drinking 'gnac, laid back, thinking back I hated Giuliani, what I'd give to get Deakins back Be writing raps, chasing Henny with scotch CD on random play, blasting Biggie and 'Pac Shiggy is hot Society, they made me fiery Heard you one sided I leave you open minded Brain smoking frying Laying hopeless dying Them n***as should've pulled your coat Sha be toting iron They say y'all flow futuristic 2020, with my 1988 ways, counting the money Lounging with honeys Big truck, dick in they guts And we don't love these chicks Do it for kicks in the nut Yo Sha's nuts, I'm loco, ya goons can't do me I blossom and bloom and stay in tune like I'm looney Who we? We New York greatest, word is bond Study long, study wrong, pro's and cons It's on [Hook]