rate me

(feat. Shades of Brooklyn)

[Wild Son talking]

Yea yea

Wild Son, Wilson Ave

Shades of Brooklyn motherfuckers

Beatminerz, check this shit out here

Check it..

[Wild Son]

Columbus thought the earth was flat

I copped the map, to navigate on track

Reprocussions don't buy Black - false allegations

I rush through nations like some Haitians

Since my incubation I been destined for this paper

Timbs scraper, fly shape up, got my weight up

Laugh at haters, smack 'em now, kill 'em later

Small Soldiers, action figures in motion pictures

You read off scripts, and for the feds gave tips

Icebergs sank ships, Shades load up clips

Cock back the four-fifths then continue to spit {*two gunshots*}

Blow ya neck off, ya specs lost, respect black to the boss

Get those hands chopped off, for thinkin I'm soft

I'm quite well of course - many feet with this rhyme technique

Beat off the heat with an ear to the streets nigga

Word life motherfucker

Wilson Ave, handcock, Wild Son motherfuckers

[Wilson Ave]

Now you know what type of shit I'm on

I feed on the broke, the poor, and the weak-n-sore

I defeated all these tribes and the gangs

I'm that number one killa, DRAMA!

[Wild Son]

Y'all niggas can't fuck with this

Black mongol slave, Pastor Gray,

low c's and no feds, it's time to get paid

Hold the hand grenade with the pin in my mouth - issued army

So when you come to get me kill off everybody

Escaped from a trapped room, my hood is Beirut

The buds recruit, while all the guards, crackers was true

Good health and wealth, for cheddar cheese as green as dough melt

Some cried some died from the pain that's felt

Why fight? Why fuss? That's what the want from us

But if it's love that's lost, then there's no more trust

With that fake love, that cause to get your brain straight plugged

Gun held snubbed, seen your fams and gave 'em a hug

Did I see you? Nah, I wouldn't wanna be 'em

Sort as wounds treat 'em - deep in foundation

Best believe that's how I leave 'em

[Wilson Ave]

Ain't no cure for this - what I suffer from is mentally

I got drama with one, drama with these hoes

Shit I even got drama with this finger

And I'ma damn sure die with it, forever havin drama

Since birth I've seen it everywhere

New York, Houston, St. Louis, even Kansas City

What cha'll know about that

[Wild Son]

Competition, there is none, fuck with Black and get done

Pack guns, gat-lers, rockin all the latest fashions

You gotta love me, for being young, black, and hungry

Considered ugly, but since this money wanted to plug me

I keep it humble, speak to myself so call me Mumbles

Move some Buddu's, until the deez rush through

Or maybe touch you, cats wanted two from the crew

This shit is tense, you out the fence, you even lost one shoe

Ran a marathon even though the cops ass won

Shit was on, rapper we get it be gone

Meet you at the stash crib, twelve blocks from where you live

Don't say shit, even turn your wife and your kids

Daddy's on the run now, all alone with low reprise

No cries now, the way a real nigga gets down

Facin death, stealin somebody's life's called theft

Black know's best, this even go's for the opposite sex

No regrets, I did what I did, ah from the whip

Kids think sick, pack big shit, extended clips

Motherfuckers, yea yea

Get it all, bring it on what

[Wilson Ave]

There's three types of drama

One that gives drama, one that recieves drama

And one that watches drama

Sometimes the outcome you wouldn't believe

Don't sit there and front like you never felt it

Maybe just that the wrong nigga sent it

So when you find yourself afraid, frightened

Fearin for your life, pray I'm not after you


[Wild Son]

Motherfucker, Shades of Brooklyn

Ya get caught, get'cha motherfuckin life tooken

Bitch ass niggas, Wild Son, Wilson Ave

You handcock homo, we hand water and rocks nigga

Sharper Side on the beats, ya heard

Serious up in here...

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