Shyheim - The Difference lyrics

[Intro: Caniven] Oh, the d-i-fference, Caniven Bottom Up, Rahmaddan, I want in I'm in, in... [Caniven] From sun up to sun down, I'm known to bust rounds T-top Coupes, spin out and rush towns Leaders of the dust now, dare a n***a f** 'round Play like you fire, get clipped like a bust down Gave these n***as 'nough pounds, no more love And I gave these n***as 'nough time, no more d** You ain't had the proper respect to switch up, cuz Keep playing cuz it's crunch time, you still on dubs? Better show 'em that it's lunch time, dare y'all grub Better show 'em that I bust mines, here y'all slugs That's what ya chest'll say when I raise the A.R. hub Put the I in the middle cuz I air them out When I come around, start to hand it out And when we stare down, you could tear and pout That's how it go ba' bro, this is my hometown Where they double up, flip and, bubble up quick, and Know they dead wrong, and, take it to trial And I don't give a f**, the whole city is, wild And when I say that, my n***a, gimme a pound But I ain't talking 'bout a handshake, fifth'll make ya hand break Clap him 'til he pepperseed, laughing when he Harlem Shake You get hit from far away, baby boy, we far from cake, cake Wait for a minute, it's attack on you b**hes You would stagger on my pivots Seem to hate, the hate for you n***as But the cake here now, it ain't safe year round Yes, fresh, in my Maury's and Guess Cardier specs, bracelets, Princess gets And you loose nuts front, I'ma tighten 'em up Lighten 'em up, f** around, dyking 'em up When he lifting up his shirt, he see that diaper mush [Chorus 2X: 5 Mics and Caniven] I heard y'all n***as, after eating, and y'all getting y'all grind up It's Rahmaddan now, mothaf**a, ya time's up Them icy-a** chains, you don't wanna remind us Don't get lined up, n***a, rewind us [IMF Blue Steele] In the middle of the night, I fiddle with ya life Hit you with that white, have you whistle through a pipe Listen, this is right, that is what is wrong You get a little ice, wanna brag it on the song f*ggot, get a thong, you will never score I'm straight to that basket, faster than LeBron Or skip to my Lou, I skip to my Lou Wan' flip? I spit hollow tips through ya goose Hollow tips through ya braids, hollow tips through ya waves Hollow tips through afros, Gumby's or fades Lot of pricks and a**holes, they want me to fade Lot of pricks and a**holes, they want me to graze When I'm straight for ya face or straight for ya legs Anything to slow you down, and make sure you beg Like, "Please, son, it's not that serious" Now ya a** should've known, kid is shot, that's serious [Chorus]