Shyheim - 160.15 lyrics

Published

0 325 0

Shyheim - 160.15 lyrics

(feat. Bee-Gee) [Intro: Shyheim] Mm... Bottom Up, yo! [Shyheim] Ya'll can't f** with me, or my f**in' team What the f** y'all mean? f** Shyheim Like catchin' bodies ain't me, like armed robberies 160.15, ain't my steeze I'm big dick Hercules, I'm from wildin' wildin' Staten Island Where the little homies, murked the D's We bout it bout it, you can see C-Murder in our eyes 4/5/6 on my dots It was my finger that pulled the trigger, when he died Tell the creator, I said I'll check him later I done got it, all upstairs, that's why my peers call me elevator Me and bonifide gangstas, roll like skaters in Empire Kanye West rap n***az, have 'em spittin' through the wire You biters, I'm gasoline, if it wasn't for me Ya'll wouldn't be fire, I got the industry tied up Held for ransom, pretty b**hes tell me calm down handsome I just give them a stupid look without answerin' [Chorus: Bee-Gee] Since the first time that I stepped through the door And lettin' y'all n***az know, that I will bring the noise Move with some round n***az, that'll bang the toys Gettin' it all and poppin', in the streets, for sure ooww But since y'all n***az wanna hate, violate Unless you see how it is, messin' with the great Pull my thing out, no safety on it, aimed at the target Squeeze off, let them shots rip your flesh apart, sure [Shyheim] I'm from S.I., used to rock Wu-Wear Before my n***a Rasheem got murdered, I could say I used to care But now I don't, f** around and hang myself If you give me, a long enough rope, I'm stupid like that Ask my n***a Homi', I pack bigger mac's than McDonald's Bang harder, than African booties, scratchers on bongo's And y'all don't pop, won't pop, I been in dope spots When the police raided, back when my hair was braided Back in the days on Halloween, we went eggin' I used my building taggin' manhunt, sk**s for slayings What you say is not irrelevant, you gonna need some good luck So cop two elephants, I'm hell of bit, in the precinct Bitin' the skin off my fingers, to disguise my prints And they still came back, go home, like Ma, it's a real wrap Man listen, I'm not going going, back, back, to priz-oh [Chorus x2]