Shyheim

Shyheim - 5 Elements lyrics

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(Rubbabandz  Pop Da Brown Hornet  Down Low Reka  Junelover)

 Motherfuckin GP in the motherfuckin house
 With shorty Shy

 [Rubbabandz]
 Yo.. yo.. I raise all hell when I  start to stain
 Crab niggaz  I recon  you recognize the grain
 I bring drama to your earpiece  when I bust
 Raps niggaz collapse  in fact turn to slush
 It only takes a second to die
 It only takes a minute to get high
 The hoods that I run with really don't care
 Bustin at God with our pistols in the air

 [Pop Da Brown Hornet]
 No more loses, I'm bringin in da bosses
 You wanna get rich, bet on me, motherfuck them horses
 I'm black, too good, deadly like a luger
 I live day by day, but my mind set on the future
 Drunk with vexism, handin out bad desicions
 Got shit locked like state prisons
 MC destroyer, bring it, I got somethin for ya
 When I'm red niggaz die from paranoia
 Sureshot, play yourself, get got, forget me not
 Or I'll be runnin shit in ya' spot
 Die Hard, crackin shit, like Ty Cobb
 Keep it real, plus stay black, roll with a tight mob
 Forever high, I'm the type of guy to puff chocolate thai
 Then blow the smoke all in your eye
 You're blinded, the rap style I posess, you can't find it
 That's why you wanna constantly rewind it

 [Down Low Reka]
 Yo, D. Allah represent at sparkin mics like flint
 With style that you can inhale and get the nigga bent
 Cash Rules, no choice but bein top biller
 Have ya blinded by the fire like that bitch in the killer
 You know I'm iller, than the caviar, with these rhythms
 That's Acquired to break down Immune Systems
 In any battle I'm-a come in first
 With raw techniques that shock ya ear like a fuckin curse
 I like sex after Ballentine Triple X
 Understandin, I run through hoes like Barry Sanders
 Niggaz get lost in the land
 Reachin, it'll cost your hand, now ya sink in the sand

 [Shyheim]
 I'm-a live shorty, word up, the shit ain't hard to tell
 I kill verses, just like, napsilnac to sperm cells
 My lifestyle, it didn't change, I'm still the same
 Nike sneakers, Guess jeans and gold chains
 The Rugged Child be bringin drama to your system like drugs
 Live and direct, from New York like Lugz
 Is it the ruckus you want, come and get that ass lynched
 You complain to throw, I play your jake with a twelve inch
 Kid, I be just fuckin in the cut, on some Shaolin what
 Jiggy-June bust a nut

 [Junelover]
 Who dares to test me, bring it to the cypher
 Niggaz you don't really wanna see the God hyper
 Active, make teachers run back for practice
 And tell they proteges, they can't fuck with the tactics
 So give me room, when I speaks with verbal knowledge
 You put your best man, even if he went to college
 With this mutation, I serve like a chef
 What do you know, I be that nigga squeezin air from your last breath
 Got you gaspin from suffocation
 Then I leave without a clue nor an explanation
 It's the mister hip hop, b-boy, rap addict
 Static, you don't want, cause when I brings it, it get tragic
 Faggot, now put an H on your chest and handle
 Whatever comes at ya, best beleive I'ma gat ya
 Now move back from this Jack, you can't touch it
 Cause if you do, you catch a buck 50 muggin
 I'm thuggish, with enough stamina to damage ya
 crew, plus jerk em like a crooked ass manager
 Corrupt indeed, my mind is the backbone of evil
 Causin me to to hurt innocent people
 Niggaz playin hard rocks on the wrong block
 Thinkin it be you until I let the nine glock
 Pa-POP, my man shitted all in his pants
 It's the same old song and dance
 And I'm out motherfuckers
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: Bottom Up Records

Details:

Released in: 2004

Language: English

Appearing on: The Lost Generation (1996)

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