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Staten Island
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Shyheim
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1
[** feat. Castro, Fastlife Fox, Nizzle:]
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['Gangs of New York' {sample}:]
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Anytime that I wish*
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I could turn it against you
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[Fastlife Fox:]
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Let me take you to my location, where they treat me like Naseem
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Coming to America, it's Akim
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Fastlife Fox, can't see him even if I had Visine
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I stretch a nigga out like widescreen
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Me, Myself & Irene, a bullet pistol right out of my jeans
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Drive-by, cut off the high beams
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Fly by, gun off your fly team
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And hit 'em from the Bottom Up, bang bang, shout out to Shyheim
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I ain't nothing like the rest of these dudes
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I make a call and have seventy goons
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One down on 'em, like a robbery, don't mess with me, fool
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Who wanna dance, I'mma step on your shoes, you wanna dance?
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I do the Gregory Hines and tap on your spine
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Push your front to the back of your mind
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Cook you up like crack on the grind, so look me up
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You can find me in the Yellow Pages, under Staten, it's time
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[Shyheim]
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I'm straight out of Staten Island, 10304 Richmond County
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I smoke that good soury, I be baked like brownies
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High like howdy, or a Allen Ive' alley
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You be fucking with that brown weed while my Al's Green
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I'm a Killa Bee who killed a Bee, I took Rae's sting
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I got my own website, I don't need no ning
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Niggas in jail with no internet still got my link
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And the Bottom be popping bottles, we don't cop no drinks
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[Castro]
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Aiyo, you can get popped through your Sox hat, you melt like hot wax
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You can't say shit when I cock back
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Here we go faggots, felt was radioactive
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Every hi-tech vehicle, stereo hazard
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I bag bad dimes, I go scary ol' fat chicks
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One shot through the chest, aerial back flip
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Word to the fid-eye, my gun bang like a trid-op
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Back baby nid-eye, and swing glocks baptid-ize
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Low's gold BS, so stone cold and fresh
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If I blew in the air, I'd make the o-zone connect
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Old road to death, my soul won't go to rest
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Until I kill all my enemies, and smoke all they flesh
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[Nizzle]
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Growing up in the Staten, ya'll think shit don't happen?
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Thirty years old, tossing them hats, man
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Drug money, easy, niggas doing it backwords
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Well fronting on my strip, I'll get them smoked like Backwoods
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From the 2-4, to the number one kitchen
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I'm the man in the porch, still I hold a Mr. Smithen
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Westing, homeboy, best to get to stepping
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Cuz I don't give a fuck about you, or what camp you repping
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Chain gang's not to be fucked with, trust this
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Cuz niggas like me, I'm all in, they bluffing
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Niggas could catch me, posted on the Ave
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Pushing the new Jag, blowing on purple grass
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P.O.R.T. Richmond
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Home of the greatest, still home of some snitches
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I don't give a fuck, I got the chrome for them bitches
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One shot deal, blow them bones out them chickens
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It's Nizzle
Nathan Evans - Wellerman (Sea Shanty) (L...
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