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by Papoose

“Street sweepers entertainment”
“Only a Brooklyn nigga could do this”

Yea bigg”
Yea, yea”
I chase hustlas of the block tell them get
Of the strip,
You 8 ball shaving dog you a ain't flipping a brick

I chase rappers of the stage tell them get
Of the Mic

You just rapping about it homeboy this shit is my life

I look murders in the eye that's word
Of a trigga

If I'm still alive, you ain't a real murderer nigga

I put it work
Work on this starving streets
I put it work. I aint never squash a bee
I put it work, work on the block all night
I put it work, work on this got them mic
I put it work, work on this starving streets
I put it work, I aint never squash a bee

I don't demolish ya rappers cause I doubt ya breads
But I cant go back to Brooklyn without ya heads

Run upon me ya better re route ya legs
How many miles ya feed

These niggas be taking food out ya plates
But you calimin that you blast your glock

I aint pass nobody my plate,
I pass a pout

They telling you who the feed taking half on top
Niggas be running your plate like a traffic cop

Rappers be getting leaned on when they getting rap doe
Trying to lean on me they see I got a cash flow

Wanna lean on me, but when I let that mack blow
I bet you it would make lean back like fat joe

I spit the greater originally like jazz-o
Dictator like Castro

I was in a wimp in the celly
Yea hitting some chick with the elly

Had a feed pumping gas in a wimp of the Getty
that's when I seen my man who rip something deadly

He walked around stick something ready
Nigga told me sin something light

I gripped on a deasy
I don't sin something light but sin somethin heavy

Talking that mess over that under hand tracks
Goin get you and your other man wack

Im from the motherland but this gutter lain crap
Got this brother men strap

They hit one of your mans in the back laid your upper man flat
The docter had to cut his arms off then black

They say one of his arm but his other hand a rap
Now every time he come to a show the mothafucka cant clap

How you bag on a ounce and bring one grand back
Cant cut a damn crack

I hate when two of my mans get it to it
I cant fuckin stand that

I aint no referee understand that
don't ask me for a towel if he cuts you
I don't want to hear that
Ima hand you a razor and tell you cut that man back

You a dolor not a soldier
Understand that
They got you out hear carrying hundred grams packs

I don't care if he rich or he bust his damn gat
That don't make him nice the cocksocker cant rap

Maybe go to industrie parties my who fam strap
Hot 9, 7 smither?
In Brooklyn we don't give a fuck about rubber band stacks
Niggas will rob you for your money and give you your rubber bands back

Real dogs don't got a tail to get of jail
Fake dogs telling on each other how the hell

Cause my dogs dogs
Cause they ride well
I call yall dogs cause everyone of ya niggas got a tail

Stay planin is next to the smart niggas im standing
Cause yo im be expecting them hard for ya niggas to panic

Man I aint messing with ya niggas im glammin
Ya slick talkin ya bay yo nigga is cannon

I shoot like all millie in vange
New york yo niggas do damage

Niggas who do under hammin moves take smart dudes for granted
Getting the upper hand why would give yall niggas advantge

Soon as you lay an eye at your mouth niggas
You jammamin
Dark like you a fanam

a lot of niggas be acting hard like they could stand it
But man when the shot go off
They be under them cars like a macanic

Cause you cant try to touch a big track physically
Only way you cant touch a big track I lyrically
The upinomy lyrical ability
Soulute busta rhymes puffy and big
This is victory
Face fire don't run tfrom scorchers
And flames
My blood don't run homie you walk through my veins

Contributed by Max G. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
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