PMD

PMD - I'll Wait (featuring Lavell & Roland Harris) lyrics

rate me

[PMD]

Ah... yeah.. check it, 9-4 (yeah)

Turn it up one notch

Yeah, this goes out to the brothas in Brooklyn (Crooklyn)

All the brothas to the east coast, west coast (word)

Sittin in them cars, you know what I'm sayin' (word 'em up)

Ready to blow them amps, yeah hit them bass buttons

To all the get low posses, you know what I'm sayin'

Zone 7 in the house (word 'em up) Word bond

Got my man Lavell to the left, my man Roland Harris ridin' shotgun

And of course DJ Scratch on the 1 and 2 (yeah)

Yo, Lavell, you ready to flip dough in 9-4? Sic 'em, champ

[Lavell]

I'm snakebitten, spittin' venom infected with the outrageous

contagious spreadin', nobody's protected

Microphones floatin' freely through zones, crushin' clones

So don't disturb me and the Mic Doc, searchin' real domes

Push the button, helter skelter, guard your mental

Shit's past the point, on the brink not blinkin' is essential

Niggaz blast the joint, niggaz blastin' niggaz while I'm blastin

Spastically out of electric sockets rarely seen like Hailey's Comet

What was that? Bring it back. What was that? Shit was tight, fat

All that new vocabulary get the bozack

Squad, the Def Squad, your brain is numb

Lavell Bass, Roland Harris and Parrish Smith stomp that cranium

[Roland Harris]

While brothas swingin' they paws often, knowin' who it is, it's teleportic

Me, I'm Roland Harris, he's movin past the Lavell staff

His only images of a god is, yo, when you see the

PMD rolled a massive squad yo if you peter

See me no jack joke to jack rope-a-dope, no no no no

We got bloody palms suddy, fuckin' already knew that though

Crazy is the peels the reals going to ace you over gills

The most fucked up shit's about to hit the streets, which is worse, G, Me

Oh, they givin' out guns, yo. Gun control bills

But they called Big Ro ill, causin' our brothas to sit back and chill

Until align the squad G, free the squad in me

Fire exquisite looking feature, meager. And if anyone tries to

Put out these flames our chairs we throw 'em, pistol smoke, then BLAST

At last, you know who to hand the cash, the brotha with the black hoodie

Brotha AR fatigued, should he, nigga play post rhyme

Time me, 70 worst as we burst out in 84 contact go pussy

And we out, G

[PMD]

I'm sittin' in the crib, wonderin' where a sunset's at (Ha, Ha, Ha...)

I'm crosstown in the zone with my hand on the gat

Yeah, I got this. That's why they call me Swiss Smith, no bullshit

Strictly biz, not havin' it

It's too many rap hits for niggaz to be checkin' me, I'm wreckin', see

Zone 7 on the track with PMD

Up after hours, gunnin' niggaz down at the watchtower

Deep like Malcolm, deadly like gun powder

Sat back strapped, while brothas try to attack

Time to react, 'cause the Hit Squad ain't havin' that

{*vocal sample*}

Hit Squad in the house, Parrish Smith representin'

(Weak ideas irritate my ears)

Check check it out, check check it out

(Weak ideas irritate my ears)

(Is this the best that you can make?)

(Weak ideas irritate my ears)

[Roland Harris]

My niggaz making triple figures and we out to bring terror in all our pictures

I'm always lifted when I enter the 7-digit, I'm blistered

I grab beats and break bottles and widely stick it

I pull out brains and sockets and examine it, frizziness and wickedness

Roland Harris' and his device is like a rifle, it's crazy vital

(Yoooooooowwwwwww!)

[PMD]

Back from the darkness, 'bout to spark this microphone

Niggaz tryin' to reach me but no one's home

I'm not that same nigga that bust that jam, that Gold Digger

I'm in the zone, looking at the real picture

Strike three, K'in' niggaz like a pro pitcher

So take a look at daddy, 'cause I'm representin'

From Brentwood, Long Island, Brooklyn to San Quentin

Niggaz trippin', bitin' my business formats and techniques like rabies

Juggle these, what, nuts, hard to fade, see

Nuff respect to Russell Simmons, peace from PMD

I'm out like Arsenio, that nigga's swayze

[Lavell]

I flip for those who lost their mind, must've crossed the line

And saw the other side and tried to slap some rastas comin' to find a ride

Normals dressed in jackets frontin' like it's warm. It's not

It's hot. You'll sizzle internally rot, you stinkin' blood clot

These rugged styles I flip a while

And if I step into a different schizophrenic ego see those bodies file

Body bags fill up, I kill crews and I abuse you

Connivers and labbers I stick you with the Phillips screw

Driver, why the violence trap, so I snap

Hurl and unfurl with violence, fall out like hair on steroids

When I'm p-noid, Like PS it's void

I'm-a disperse a verse that's planted to bitch

'cause that's the shit that makes my squad hit

{*vocal sample*}

(Weak ideas irritate my ears)

(Weak ideas irritate my ears)

(Is this the best that you can make?)

(Weak ideas irritate my ears)

[PMD]

Hit Squad

Zone 7

Niggaz stay jeal'

Hit Squad

Peace Rockafella..

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