King Push
RZA
Razor
The devil is a lie
You ain't broke bread 'till you taste the devil's pie
They say his laugh sounds like an angel when he cries
What better camouflage when the halo's your disguise
Them wings don't fly
Your traitor is your neighbor
At your front porch, and he's handing you your paper
Bathrobe on, but the sword's underneath
And he wanna see your blood as it pours in the street
It's the mark of the beast
The meek shall inherit the Earth
The weak shall inherit the dirt
You each should have perished at birth
Still born or aborted
Every street tax gotta come with an audit
Either your life, or your loved ones
Straight razor or a snub-gun
From the village where the thugs from
Same corner that you copping all your drugs from
He a hero, but he unsung
I'm the one
the chambers is 36, they new and improved
Now make a move
These guns whistle, sizzle up dudes who got big mouths, no power
Run in the bank with no dollars, got the nerve to switch crews
We better than the rest of 'em, my guess is the estrogen
And all the money we got, remove like the Mexicans
A cartel, compound, a carvel, a large scale in Scarsdale
I fuck with golf now, Shala is ill
Yeah, the coke is fresh, straight out of Bermuda yo
Or chilling on a beach in Boca, cheefin' with tuna
Salads and palaces, yo, we smoke out them chalices
Passing of the balances of bread to the Island since
1984, the blow was just more
Then we would come trough with rifles rocking Nike boots and war
A real nigga's invention that came from a henchman
Who blew up, now throw the Wu up, that's my redemption
Drug dealer, been that nigga half my life
Drug dealer, been that nigga half my life
You niggas talking, but you ain't never seen 'em
Imagine being first name basis with the kingpin
God, I was Lucifer's neighbor
You wouldn't believe some of the things these people do for this paper
Moving with the lasers under Rugers
Make a move, you make the papers, lose lose situation
Sweat or blood, you get to choose what you bathe in
The chemists cookwork
The runners; footwork
The customs took work
The soldiers put work in
On any of the motherfuckers who fucked up good work
Bosses tell 'em: 'Good work'
That's just how the hood work
Northface bubble with, eight bundles under it
Gold front upper-lip smile while I was hugging it
I lied, I wasn't Lucifer's neighbor, he who I'm fucking with
My moms threw that snow in her nose, but I would hustle it
Mongoose with the pegs
Clap your stoop up, hit moms duke in her legs
That's beef nigga, y'all ain't street niggas
Y'all peep niggas, write it down and try to be niggas
Fucking everything, neck heavy swing
Second hand swepped across that pretty breathling
In that Nissan, Honda, Chevy thing peddling
Whatever bring fetti in, steadily I fed my whole team
In this art of war, my pen stroke is Picasso
Niggas get the picture I ain't got to paint the nostrils
You know my origins is over when
Fat black bitch singing over organs
Die for a dollar, pride you don't swallow
You say that for the one you buying red bottoms
Yeah, that's the price you gotta pay for it
All's fair in love and war, she masquerade for it
Woo! Jack-O-Lantern Push
Trick or treat (?), I earned it of the books
Now listen to me vent
When you sitting watch, it's like the tires being spent
Shots from everywhere, but they never make a dent
Knight in shining armor
Mistake me for the villain cause of my vengeance is your karma
Yeah, fear is knowing you're a goner
This music to my soul, cause it's death before dishonor
Gone
Got the tongue of a pimp, raised by a dirty preacher
That used the church money to cop a new Beamer
Got the heart of a child raised by a prostitute
That bought his momma the rubbers when a john came through
It’s the microphone Methadone
Greatest ever etched in stone
You ain’t getting pussy like your prom date had a chaperone
Popping pills got a nigga brain like a labyrinth
Called the ho on purpose but I got the brain on accident
Nigga I’m your majesty, show up with a bag of weed
Rolled a blunt so perfect, thought it came up out a factory
My manuscript leave a man ripped of all his dreams
The insomniac with nightmares in sixteens
I’m a wet dream, Dry sense of humor
Travel in class like a high school rumor
No one really cares if you embarrass us with style
Cuz when it comes to them raps you been letting us down
So tell em why your mad son
Gotta get it off your chest
Let em know how you feel son
You gotta say what you say
It don’t matter, they gonna say a nigga hating anyway
