INF-Black - Stick Up lyrics

[Intro: INF-Black] Put your hands up, it's a stick up, you heard? Uh-huh, all my live n***as, friday.. Put your hands up, it's a stick up, you heard? [INF-Black] I'm the hood like weed and crack Best believe I'm the hood and I ain't far from my gat Was taught to hold it down, and never slack on my mack Same n***as you give pounds, be those n***as that rat The bullsh**, you got a deal, momma told me react I'm from a part of town, that's real, where you can't relax Shots throwin', always somethin', get your head piece cracked The block jumpin', stay pumpin', these buildings is where it's at These buildings is where I stack, brought out the INF-Black Rather get caught in the act, then caught dead in your back, so chill (chill) If peace was an option, and still plottin' Nobody's untouchable, keep your p's when it's coppin' Please, when I'm co*kin', or freeze and get boxed in So many m.c.'s on they knees, now they plead when they coppin' My live state rockin', fresh, and still grindin' Time after time and my homies, I'm still ridin' [Chorus 2X: INF-Black] Ya'll haters coudln't ride with me Couldn't get down like me, get high like me Competition's like a robbery, it's easy to see Yo, put your hands up, it's a stick up, you heard? [Hook: INF-Black] Go bang, when I'm jumpin' the gun Have ya'll b**h a** n***as run It go bang, that's the sound of the thang That's the sound of the thang.. [INF-Black] I ain't talkin' like I can't slip, or get clipped But I'm on point like my outfit matchin' my kicks I'm co*kin' this fifth, f*ggot n***as all on my dick With a heart full of fire, I ain't givin' an inch Take my kindness for weakness, ain't life a b**h Staten Isle's best secret'll run up in your sh** Like I ain't never been pinched, took a blow over some dough I slap a hole in the 'fro for sniffin' my blow, it's real Park Hill's where I'm from, where k**as load guns And take funds, huggin' the trigger Shot pumps in your Hilfiger, or the block for this cheddar Hold cracks in sweaters, next to floored counterfeiters Yeah, I loved a lot of n***as, but lot of n***as I stop lovin' It's me or them, so f** 'em (f** 'em) ... [Chorus 2X] [INF-Black] I'm livin' proof, n***a, listen More j**els than Q when he k**ed Bishop, play the roll or be the victim Time's tickin', my hand's itchin', I'm hot in the kitchen Any condition, I'm street, son, I'm plottin' the mission Choppin' the raw, I'll break it off, through my addition It's gonna be friction, I keep the half-sawed, it's real Push my limit, catch an a** whippin', son, I ain't' missin' Two tool for the club and a nine for the waistline Get it all, it's fine, just like your b**h, can't wait to taste mine Break spines for yards and I break the ba**line Hold it down with my squad, move hard as county lines, run that I'm your car, wouldn't call it a crime My rubber gripped chrome nine, keep ya'll hoes in line Treat you like old p**y, cuz I'll f** you when I want Gut you out like a turkey and I'll stuff you a blunt, chump Have you in emergency, for tryin' hum a stunt [Chorus 2X] [Bridge: INF-Black] n***a run that... Give up your chain and your watch, or the Glock'll go click clack I ain't playin', what I'm sayin', throw these hollows in your six pack Don't have me pop, don't move, n***a, I ain't try'nna hear that n***as know I won't hesitate to put your f**in' sh** back [Interlude: INF-Black] Yeah, INF-Black, Hillside Scramblers, it [Hook] [Outro: INF-Black] Muthaf**as, toast to that, n***a Put your hands up, it's a stick up, you heard?