[Intro: Shabazz the Disciple]
Yeah, D.S., kiss the muthafucking pinky ring, nigga
Welcome home, nigga, the hood miss you
[Shabazz the Disciple]
I'm proposing the pace, I'd like to welcome home the Godfather
Who on the block, that sell block, and trade the non-bother
Whose famous words, was 'you fuck me, and I fuck you harder'
Fam got block ties with Danny Dan and Shawn Carter
And now we sitting at the table with our seeds up
Bout to shut 'em down, set up shop, get those b's up
We in the studio, cooking them bags of d's up
Put it on the street, double back when we re'd it up
He introduced me to the game and he lived for the drama
Paper chasing them halos, and nine zeros and three commas
In '88, black Beemer, banned, fugitive, he eating homi's
One of the first of the Pumas, we ride shine, dime o's
Twenty g's a night, ninth floor, eighty; the white
Whose right around the time, that the Gods started to write
We put Red Hook on our back, in the map, killas feel us
Half of the crew got hood tats, and stab wounds and bullets
The other half is deceased or in the yard
The fear ya'll know, got the violence, and they on they way to God
Fuck out the Benz, open that fake gangsta shit
Red Hook Projects, smoke the body to this shit, ya'll niggas strip
[Chorus 2X: Shabazz the Disciple]
Ya'll little monkeys try'nna swing in the jungle, for the gorillas
Fronting like you moving them bundles and music killa
Like bail money's in the safe, and the gun is under the pillow
Your own hood saying you pussy and you'se a squealer
[D. Snubs]
Liar liar, pants on fire, you never was killing
Cat daddy, your first day up, in Coxsackie, you was squealing
You told on your team, I heard it formatted
It hurt my feelings, to know that you paused, treated as badly
Ya'll was willing, to give you a deuce, from every million
Two hundred thousand long, that was no longer, we played the buildings
We be villains, you superhero shit for the civilians
Let them jump out of the fan booth, you left fours loose
Come through in the drop, you cock, and let more loose
You'se an asshole, infered dots if you pass go
I know the truth, the O.G. Bazz gave me the scoop
Cline's coming home, to shut down, we here for the loot
Every dollar, down to the penny, don't try to be cute
Trying to make a name for yourself, a sick nigga, you should get help
Only fags put they name on they belt
On the buckle, I just hustle and hustle for health, come on
[Chorus 2X]
[Duss Smitty]
Listen, I saw a lot of niggas, grow up to be something
Wrong place at the wrong time, gone for three summers
Mean numbers, and twelve niggas to a shower
Three summers, told to fifteen, in half an hour
For the power, niggas'll body they cell mate
While the C.O.'s watching you die from your cell gate
And stale mate, and rotted, you rolled over
Ya'll let it quiet down, believe me, it ain't over
For six months, one brother be down
They commissary dogs, struggling now, phones gone
And you can't bail out, you wanna die, shoot your only way out
There ain't a gorilla that made his way out
You moving closer to your worst way out, you watching digits
Got your eye on the loot, and you fake made it, try'nna make you a coogie
Riker's state dreams, pushing your kuffie
Swinging bangers, niggas wishing they uzi's
[Chorus]
[Shabazz the Disciple]
I run with machiners and my team been on the rappers
Hood ballers that'll bail up and shoot, after they crack it
Niggas who keep, one on they back like Jamal Crawford
Rush the whole, like battery rock, they try to block it
You push the rock up our home court, yo, we D it up
Get the steal, pull up for three, then we re it up
Try to commit the flagrant foul against my set
Nigga, I ain't the ref, but I still hit ya ass with the tech
Just cuz a nigga's all tattered in his face and scarred
That shit don't mean he put in work in the yard
Now you a gangsta, cuz you rocking little vicky
And a bandana, throwing up signs, like you banging your hammer
Fronting, like you been putting handwork in the slammer
I give ya'll little monkey niggas bananas
Debo'ing niggas for blocking sequels
Gats come offsides, we cross the line of scrimmages
We live the life that inspire hip hop images
Raised by the lifers, man, it's in our images
[Hook 2X: Shabazz the Disciple]
You left the hood cuz you running from beef
You got shot and you talked to the police
Gangs dry switching over hip hop biz
Nigga, you pussy, you ain't come from the streets, you ain't a gangsta