Papoose - DJ Premier’s Bars In The Booth Freestyle lyrics

rate me

My city so real out-of-towners wish they was the king of it

While the government shut down on their own, that's what I call self-destruction

My young cousin died on the streets hustling

His daughter suffering, wow

He didn't live to one day walk her down the isle

I'll take his place, I'll be there with a suit and a smile

She don't gotta thank me, your daddy was brave

He would've did this for me if I was in the grave

Haters be sabotaging

Disrespect you on a website and call it blogging

All up in the comments

They say, ''He was supposed to save rap from the nonsense''

Fell short, need food for thought, we are starving

He's good, his city bad, that's his installment

He think he better than his own city, that's preposterous

It's a problem my involvement is from

Brooklyn to Harlem, they depend on me to solve it

Hiding behind a major label fortress

Swims in pools of liquor, alcoholic

Stuck his neck out like an ostrich, he a moving target

To the death on you bastards

When I die put a street sweeper in my casket

And close it, just let me lay there with the ratchet

Yeah, dust to dust and ashes to ashes

So the snake who killed me could walk in laughing

By the grace of God I'mma jump up blasting

Acting like you built, you'se a fucked up has-been

I dress with a gun talk fashion

I'm a monster, sucker all

I spit America's Most Wanted bars

My willpower got more will than a hundred cars

I'mma show these niggas how to deal, just cut the cards

You'se a cock sucking broad, look

You got something you wanna get off your chest besides your fucking bra

Stop throwing hints, throw shots, confront it, pa

I don't got drama with none of y'all

But I hope you niggas kill each other, I don't like neither one of y'all

You can go try and get whoever you want involved

Tell 'em I'm a problem that they can't fucking solve

Acting like you really thugging hard and bucking crons

He thugging because of y'all

They put the battery in your back, now you think you a fucking star

Hit you on your back and blow the battery out of your stomach, pa

Who died and left them in charge?

Carried so many hoods on my shoulders I need somebody to give me a massage

Selling jars of weed if he pull out another jar

Fuck hugging the block, I'mma have him hugging God

Cross me and your heart won't live to beat another throb

My gun got fired so much it needed another job

I told you in Alphabetic Slaughter I was at large

My whole borough be bucking crons

You can't come to Coney Island bumping niggas, you bugging, pa

You ain't just brushing pads, niggas, you bumping hard

Next time make sure you know who you bumping, pa

Most of my Coney Island niggas'll leave you slumped on them bumping cars

Stop saying you won't get a nigga who front and rob

I don't care if you won't, I would like a lumber yard

Every time you see the entourage we come to rob

Charge with a barrage, regardless coming hard

Hit harder than Bernard, we parked in your garage

Your broad's in a ménage, hearts becoming large

Your dogs is docking, dodge us, your squad is running job

Arson grand larceny lancing

Bars of pardon in front of y'all, carve a couple scars

Harlem, some parts of Yonkers

Way across the Bronx and from

Cradle to coffin, give a fatal abortion

I'm able to off 'em, Brook'

Now I'm the posse buzzing hard

Don't cross the reservoir

Dog, see you at the next mob, the son of song