H.A.W.K. - Breathe lyrics

(*talking*) Take Over, the album coming this summer baby 2005 get ready for it baby, they said it wouldn't ever happen It's going down right now, young gun Po-Yo, Lil' O Mike D, 3-2, breathe-breathe-breathe (just blaze) [H.A.W.K.] I breathe with ease, just like I throw them B's Puff on trees, like Fat Rat I chase the cheese I'm in the matrix, like Keanu Reeves Equipped with thieves, and G's with college degrees Please believe, our franchise better than Steve's We push V's, with tops down feeling the breeze Your main squeeze, is on these N-U-T's On her knees, and she's aiming to please Cause I'm riding in a Coupe, the color of mustard Inside custard, one deep ain't no room for busters Inhale exhale, and spit flawless raps And I'm gon give these boys hell, till my lungs collapse And if you ashmatic, don't start no static I be hanging erratic, the situation could get tragic So take heed, or motherf**ers bound to bleed With your homeboy yelling, my n***a please (*talking*) Y'all n***as better breathe, y'all n***as better breathe Y'all n***as better breathe, Say Den check game my n***a [Mike D] Your boy right back home, y'all been missing the real Corleon gon give it to ya, get ya crunk like a X pill This for the real, don't let them fakes sing along It's the Boss Don-Dadda, Michael Corleone Pimp out this, not a simp out this Get my gangsta strut on, when I limp like this I'm certified, mafia strings laced up Keep a bad game face down, while I wake's up Y'all cats face up, I'm back in the do' Harder than ever, cause hard times make a real n***a grow I done seen in triple X's, making hope n***as fold The fake gon be fake, and the real gon roll on I don't know no other way, for this Hogg named Corleone I ain't had a damn thang, probably all my life sh** I struggled, but that's my life Yeah you better check it n***a, that's my life (*talking*) Corleone, CMB-S.U.C. (hold up) (you know, you-you-you know, what) [Grace] Game runner after cash, execute and put it down Rhyme ripper syrup sipper, Screwed Up in H-Town You know my name and my game, how I do what it do Legendary Dub maker, got the game from Screw Pimp pens and bust guns, transact with coupons Dues paid and stripes earned, my n***a the blue Don Get it right go all night, I'm a true block bleeder Dat Boy Grace from the Fare, certified with the heater Pick a point you phony buster, bad decision paper stacking Keep it cracking steady macking, transacting and bad ac'ing Hoover Groover that'll do ya, make the Ruger run through ya Catch a rat in my cheese, watch them hollows pursue ya I got it all on my mind, paid the cost to shine S.U.C. day one n***a, it's a constant grind I hit the booth and breathe, k** a track with ease L.O.S., Den and Grace true Southwest G's