9TH PRINCE - Banned From The Radio lyrics
rate meYeah, it's real, right now
Alexander the Great... aiyo
I'm banned from the radio
But still, I bust shots through your stereo
The hood wanna know, what's the scenario?
I'm still hustlin', fuckin' with that yae yo, aiyo
Aiyo, Brooklyn bitches call me Slim, chrome rims
Doing a buck 50, getting head from Lil' Kim
I was born on Staten Island, where them cops got shot
And the block is always hot, Godbodies got it locked
Like Fort Knox, we headliners, M-16 designers
C.E.O., slash, crime rhymers
No matter where you hide, my infered'll find ya
Blind ya, get you paranoid like ganja
The messenger, rhyme editor, walk like a predator
The streets is like a jungle
Crawling with scavengers with silencers
That'll pop your watermelon, who you telling, what you selling?
Yo, nobody, peace to 9th Prince, so stop yelling
For God's sake, ya'll niggas is coke heads
Amped off of snow flakes, I'm on a paper chase
Flee the scene without a trace
Dipped down in black, it was me and the Ghostface
Army fatigued down, busting rounds at you clowns
I'm Kool like Moe Dee, so "how the fuck you like me now? "
My underground sound that breaks the compound, aiyo
Aiyo, I gave Moses the power, to split the Red Sea
By any means, licking cannons at my enemies
Army fatigues, ducking behind trees
I'm a Prince over seas, my hair is wooly like Jesus with bronze feet
True indeed, the way I be rhyming
I'm a blow, like the marine bombings
Sound the alarming, ain't no telling, what I be harming
Supreme magnetic, state of mind, guns I design
Wave the nine to ya spine, for dropping dimes
Staten Island villains, police taking flicks, I'm moving bricks
Making millions, cameras in the buildings
The Granddaddy Flow has got a brand new bag
The Thief of Baghdad, running with C-hags
Your style is played and old school like flattops or shags
Opponents lose chances they never had
Stapleton outlaws, street pharmacists
Shootouts in front of the drug store
God bless America, running through red lights
Breaking laws, we hardcore, bucking down the jaw
And leave 'em spinning on the ground like old school b-boys
Breakdancing on the floor, nowaday
I speak directly from the heart, sparks from the .357
Light up the dark, running from NARC's
We was just kids back then, smoking weed
And just rhyming in the parks, aiyo
