Pumpkinhead - Pure Hell (Street) lyrics

[The Bad Seed] No doubt So what's what Know what I'm saying n***as is eye-spooning n***as got a lot of problems right now But let me tell you something ? got gunned down with two nines, two nines I'm glad that n***a's lying on his back I'm glad that n***a dead So it's official now This that official sh** right here Making motherf**ing records We 'bout to get rowdy up in here We 'bout to put your hands out like back in the day [Verse 1: The Bad Seed] Fortunately, my life's much different from flossing 50s Peace to my sister drink out the same faucet with me Born and raised in the ghetto, moved out, still ghetto Even outside the ghetto, I still feel ghetto Peace to n***as who steal whips that bust they steel ghetto And all outlaws be on the train, real ghetto From BK to wherever you at, you transmitting For the real n***as, 730s being advanced ? Unorthodox like Sam Fisher In a fight, my hands glisten, golden, f** that 2-5 you holding Smack a double vision like Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen ? can't f** around or fiddle with this ? started a war Put you in the middle of this, whoever is a witness If they run, hit them with this ? Light vanilla dutches, break your leg, sell your crutches You ain't never sold no crack, you gets no dap You at your mom's smoking dope, eyes closed, open them ? like the Poconos Got the brother thinking that you wildin' out ? Ain't work out how you was hoping though See through your broken flow, ? you ain't know See the world through the side of my eyes, I see it The difference is, y'all n***as talk about it while I be it ? , never beat it I dick your girl out, watch her sweat her curls out Blow her whole world out, in a home girl's house Put the toast to her mouth, tell her take the pearls out Hand the ice over, tear her up when the heist is over ? night's over Party over, pa** the L, hand the Bacardi over Amazing the disses a double barrel shotty throw ya [Hook: ? & Jean Grae] We spit bars of pure hell Broke, poor rock ice with j**els Still, don't equal what you sell Life, we see through your crew's tales News flash, pay your dues, ya crew's gas Splash, f** who's live and who's a** Yo, we spit bars of pure hell Yo, we spit bars of pure hell [Verse 2: Pumpkinhead] Pistol popper, opera phantom, ??non stopper?? I ran Contra , jungle guerrilla getting scrilla Cop k**er d**h rap, you want to test Black I'll put your head in the ground, y'all is battery packed Getting feminine pounds, four rounds of loud sounds Astounds crowd ? to make them bow down I hold the crown with a j**el encrusted in my left wrist Rhyme d**h wish, restless, get the message? I'm like a poisonous scorpion from the desert Estimated time of d**h in five seconds ? divine presence I got the glow of the sun, number one The gat talk ? , so run Sipping tequila and rum Leaving you numb, I got no words, I got gats slapping your gums I'm just flashing them guns, make you cash in your funds Give it up or get stuck, I ain't asking you, son I'm telling you, propelling you when it's time to rock My rhyme is ? make your body do a bunny hop You can't slow me ?, I'm too hot Like the taste of ?, stab your right arm like a flu shot You p**y happy rappers, fronting Big Will's stature Dancing in videos like it don't matter Your bones shatter, kamikaze chrome clapper Yo, I got no time for laughter Now, I'm about to close the chapter, n***a Original Blunted, Dutch masters, riding 'til the day after We riding 'til the day after, spittin' bars of pure hell [Hook] [Verse 3: Jean Grae] Jean Grae, make you chop your throat, switch your pitch up I roll ? so take your man, smack your b**h up Yakuza's the hit, motherf**ers, this a stick up And leave n***as ? with their dick up f** it the catch phrase, ? cash pays Smoke from ashtrays, tote for last days Choke you with both chains, slice with sharp blades The f**, no strings, no exchanging last names I live a lush life, shot drinking with the knife Catch me at the bar sloppy drunk on all nights ? spit precise, hot game, with no dice Stay chill and plain while these hoes blow for ice Low price chicks ? dick ? Gotta call the Lord for 'em, bring the sword for 'em, slice twice One through the heart, one through the brain One strictly for the pleasure, one for pain Remain on top, I'm like a smacked vein on top Drug is rhymes, watch the way I'm doing these lines The crew does crimes, your bloody hands keep mine clean Play the black, rather be the brains plotting the scheme Drop your team six feet in the ground, you getting ambushed Guerrillas attack from Japan to Flatbush Worldwide, hotter than the drug your man pushed News flash, n***a, f** another damn hook