Shyne - The Gang lyrics

(feat. Foxy Brown) [Shyne] Uh huh [Foxy Brown] Uh [Shyne] Lets get it clear (Uh huh) Brooklyn Vietnam (That's right) [Foxy Brown] Yo yo... Live from the seven-one-eight y'all; Murder City [Shyne] Lay down n***a (It's the Ill Na Na) Cut ya dick off put it in ya mouth y'all understand? (Let's go) [1st Verse (Shyne)] Ride with me as I race through ya hood Give me a fifth that'll bang and a jury that'll hang Pants saggin' in that Bentley wagon Ayo that's my n***a Yacht if the mink is saggin' Since a youth I flipped, on some ruthless sh** Had a thing for rings, bling, Coupes and sh** Some' bout watchin' Montana come up outta Havana And rule this world made me wanna grab my hammer f**in' with the Cheddar Boys Some hustler flip girls instead of boys Keep filthy laweys, for when the FEDs annoy us We keep this sh** gangsta n***a from verse to chorus And the Street Lords and Truly Yours Drive Modena Spiders and big exhaust Bleed for the streets love the war My nose bleeds for weeks I love the raw Puncture n***az when I comfort n***az Motor City to Brooklyn Veitnam n***a it's on till my flesh is gone And even then I live on in gangsta form [Chorus] What you know about that? Macs and cash n***a how you love that? What you know about that? Doin' it up livin' it up, n***a what? What you know about that? The gully kid put it in your skully kid, bleed n***a what it is What you know about that? Yacht, Cheddar Boys, Streets Lords, truly yours [2nd Verse (Foxy Brown)] It's the "Godfather Buried Alive" Ayo Po it's the Ill Na Na stuntin' in 5.0 Went to Brooklyn with the Rugers out In Flatbush and I keeps the Kiki poppin' off when the goons is out Yall got a muthaf**in problem when my dude get out Dutty Ay bust a shot for Shyne get the Guiness Stout Thats my word I got the Berken pulled over up on Parkside & Nostrond In the bu*ter scotch Rover I'm ah bad gal style like I'm 'posta Got his comrades in Clinton bustin' nuts on my poster Phone check! Muthaf**a hit the yard up Comm stop Mid-State Brooklyn n***az squad up I'm hot steppin in the pink staline seven I'ma stunt till BIG tell me there's a ghetto up in heaven See through n***az take they time like a man We don't snitch we don't sing on the stand but y'all don't hear me though.. [Chorus] [3rd Verse (Shyne)] Money, cars, guns, hoes Sniff some blow and I'm good to go Eagle inflated Federal Bureau Investigated Most hated n***a read the affidavit Uh racing loud pipes big f**ing exhausts burning the turnpike My game so tight I arouse dikes You punk rappers should paying me publishing the way you write And be sampling my life, every line in your rhyme Sound like you wanna be Shyne, and I don't blame ya Who wouldn't? Young n***a catching charges Continental Ts parked in garages Menages, odds is I'm the best spittin' it, n***a I'm gettin' it I admit it I was watching New Jack City And f**ing with ?Goodfellas? Uncle Paul got me dying to ball Every thing I talk about I live it All you hear these rappers rap about I really did it I was designed to hold nines, and grind Step out of line put you in that white line Rearrange ya brain ain't nothin change You know the game jet planes and c**aine And what I say might be held against me I don't wanna talk, I'm the hottest n***a in New York [Chorus]