black knights - urban street wars lyrics
(crisis)
wet ya mothaf-ckin’ throat with this sh-t
yo, yo, you better play what i say
i know about you n-ggas…
yo, yo, i roll with realest thug n-ggas, plus villains and drug dealers
poverty made k!llers who blaze n-ggas and drink liqour
in the struggle, since this hustle to juggle, n-ggas’ll bust you
to oppress you they don’t slapbox or wrestle, we pullin’ pistols
in k!lla cal, where n-ggas is foul and k!llers prowl
we leave you ya bagged and nasty, darkened, in a mackin’ mafia style
flippin’ hoods for miles, b-tches is wild, snitches exiled
from the blocks where teenagers hold glocks, puttin’ it down
young n-ggas is live, wildin’ out like wild indian tribes
known to ride, let ’em fly, cause homicide when they collide
peace to n-ggas from the rock called lime o’ lime
on the grinds with nines, at crunch time, f-ck one time
we bustin’ lunch-lines, there’s no remorse
all the north of course could never touch mine
move as one, stay in one mind could make the sun shine
(monk)
sun shine… the sun stay shinin’, n-gga…
ayo, i strike fast, throw ’em a bloodbath off a dutch bag
a street path, what i live, since a young kid
yo, let me find out, they’re trippin’ on the squad
frontin’ on the god, house n-ggas, b-tch made marks with no heart
for the god-u, quick to pop sh-t, they never bust it
just a sidekick, bustas from the ho -ss cl!ck
oh yeah, i seen your ho -ss when you roll past
tryin’ to front like you didn’t see me fit up your dash
dash in the past, still ain’t forgot when y’all blast
but i’ma keep it movin’, f-ck that, we gotta get a fair one
i smash fleets, my n-ggas live the street life
stay out past the street lights, pack heats to smash mic’s
slash these last nights, the black knights…
(chorus: doc doom)
yo we hold heat for these urban street wars, stuck in the ghettoes
where more souls get washed away than sea sh-lls up on the sea sh0r-
so before, you step to your door, you best look both ways
’cause gun play could leave ya physical faster than sun rays
(holocaust (doc doom))
you have now entered a parallel realm, can’t let ya gun rest
you might catch two and three slugs, wait for the sun sets
went unslept, rudely awakened by rounds of shots
here there’s death around the corner, and h-ll, just down the block
in the form of a small white rock, we fight cops
empty glocks non-stop from compton, l.a. to watts
n-ggas drop, in these tragic gun battles live short lives (yeah)
black knights on a deadly horse ride straight out the north side
of long beach, ain’t sh-t sweet, we keep straps
scared to go home, the roaches so big they eat rats (they eat rats)
streets packed…
(doc doom)
these ghetto streets is packed, gotta keep yo’ gat… yo…
up in l.a., where its k!ll or be k!lled, urban street k!llin’ fields
where weak n-ggas get caught and squealed for deals
babies be packin’ steel actin’ like they real as f-ck
set you up to wet you up for minor bucks
that’s why when i’m rollin’ i keep my heater tucked
it’s real here, b-tch n-ggas get smacked for showin’ fear here
the wild west, renowned for bustin’ straps, makin’ all blocks clear
gun play is what my n-ggas do from avenue to new day
i turn around, it seems like yo, i done lost a few homies to this gang sh-t
and i don’t even know why all of my n-ggas get trapped up in the same sh-t
are we really the lost angels from los angeles:
the land of the rough, tough, low down and scandelous
or are we peaceful people that just live up in these medievil times?
which to survive we gotta grind and keep nines
this sh-t is f-cked up, where i come from
these rough and gritty streets of compton
got me on the verge to murder somethin’
(chorus x2 w/ ad-libs and some overlapping)
(outro: doc doom)
this sh-t is real hot on these streets
get smacked up for showin’ fear
i’m tellin’ you, it’s real, n-gga!
you know? knock up, guard ya grill, tight sh-t
doc doom, holocaust, the rugged monk, crisis the sharpshooter
black knights, deadly four hors-m-n
the fantastic four at ya door
keep watchin’ out, yaknowimean? (gun play)
f-ckin’ like wild boars out in these ghetto streets
ghetto fleece catch heat from the gun play
keep heat… yeah… n-ggas dyin’
knowimean? tote ya iron, tote ya iron
gunshots firin, sirens, all that
in the ghetto streets of l.a., that’s where i come from (i know)
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