Rush - Wu-South lyrics

[Intro: Rush] Yeah... Street Flavor.. yeah.. you know? Yo, Cap, it's Rush... murder one, no love Call a n***a from North Carolina That's what it is, New York City... Bolo, what up? Cack-lack... [Rush] I'll break a n***a back, when I'm holding the mack Me and Cap bridging the gap, on one track The S.I.N.Y. and the Cack-lack I crack a n***a open like I'm drinking six packs It's on and popping in the bottom Stop a n***a in the mud if he got a problem It's dirty out here, walk around with so much ice I need a slay, Wayne Gretzky and they call me when it sudden d**h I feel like Rocky when he ran a hundred steps That ain't beef, that's pocket meat on your chest, boy I move keys like I'm on the keyboard Big Rush on the Triton, I got the license To pay a sniper when I'm writing On this microphone, I'm Mike Tyson How Street Fighter n***as call me M. Bison I stay high in my blood pressure, the slug'll dead ya Pack burners that'll give n***as the war, it's real [Cappadonna] Nickel plated tech with the shiny pearl handle Red infer' beam on the so-called vandal Original legits, still cool like Summer Sam You got a three hundred watt, with a low key light candle Burning up the jam, oh, Donna can't cook You and the dummy hit the head, Oh Donna had you hooked On the snub nose, because I never dug those Part time crime, bust me from behind n***as that play sometime, most of the time With the nine, big dummy bullets are blind So to arm me and protect, you gotta move correct And play humble, as you prepare for the rumble Then glide like a snake, and let off like the bumble Two bigger trigger, I figure I got a lotta One tough, hit the f**ed up by Don Dada I'm my all black self, with the 90 shot clip Waiting patiently for my posse to flip So I can wet something love-love, push come to shove-shove Might have to wet a n***a up with the snub bug Thirty eight pistol, handle rough like Crisco Cousin Cappa, shatter competition like crystal [Lil' Milz] If, life's a hustle, I grind it out So I can cop the big face, watch, diamoned out Eyes chinky in the Bentley, pulling up in the drive way Like Sinatra, n***a, I did it my way Repping East side, with guns on each side Last n***a tried, you know that he died Who real round here, blue steel round here Little ears on the block, get ya peeled round here I'm the man with the rock, giving feels round here If you want it, I can get that, hit you with a big pack Don't bring my sh** back, six in your knick knacks Don't mean no harm, but I'm shooting with big gats This and a flip jack'll make your a** flip back [Jarmen] Yeah, f** that, uh-huh, walk with me I'm good with thousand grams, and a well in the will While you polly in the hood, I'm on Federal Hill Moving and shaking, underground, using Jamaicans Moving these cakes in Montego, shoot up, ya naked Get on and beat it, charge money, son, it's large money Rubberband wrapped under the hard wood floor, money And I ain't gonna spend a red cent I'm just sitting on bread, try'nna get this red sh** I live for them dead presidents, ever since there was facts, high paids I was try'nna get paid, n***a, I left 10th grade, for the american dream Hitting hoods hard with that h**ne lean You only dream about my way of life, day or night I'mma get it, just as long as we poor, f** the law [Outro: Jarmen] Yeah, uh-huh, Street Flavor, word up Yeah, n***a, uh-huh, give it up or get slumped, n***a That's how we coming through... Fifty one, thirty six, Bel Air Road, n***a Street Flavor...