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ft young chris gillie da kid cyssero spade o dark lo cassid - city of brotherly slugs (ft. young chris, gillie da kid, cyssero, spade o & dark lo) - cassid lyrics

ladies and gentlemen,
i o by the name of c-ssidy
mr. hip-hop
and i put this song together for my city
feel me?
mayhem music, we forming history!

[chorus]

we from the gutter,
fell with nothing but thugs,
a bunch of convicted fellas
that selling nothing but drugs.
feely, pistol banging, city of brotherly slugs
feely, pistol banging, city of brotherly slugs

move aside, home invasions, ain’t no b-tch and no blood.
and they high up serum, pills, liquor and drugs.
feely, pistol banging, city of brotherly slugs
feely, pistol banging, city of brotherly slugs

i’m the n-gg-r that get you stomped with,
i drink the liquor, you get starched for being with it
smoking, hiding in the stars, get!
to impose, i up the dosage in the milligrams
this night for real, cypress hill, i’mma kill a man!
monday still a pain as always
it’s always building dirty, shooters in my hallway.
the vic is all gray, bombed up and rigged for war.
i should of worked more in the bag, it’s time to eat some more.

n-gg-rs rather have their sh-t strapped in the lead
break him off in pieces, leave him like kit-kat.
finding where the woes be, rest where the pit’s at.
tying his whole head, he’ll leave with a chain strapped.
cheaters hate the d, n-gg-rs can’t hate the g
36, but some n-gg-rs don’t make it to 6.
now bake up a key, make it to b,
they be working with them boys, those n-gg-rs safe as a key

n-gg-rs c-cky, n-gg-rs feeling our swag,
always k40′s, killing n-gg-rs with macs.
pretend they wanna bail, n-gg-rs flexing with cash
i airyed at your face ’till your face is a match.
dead. what is f-ck n-gg-rs talking ’bout?
feeling weed, the hardest, n-gg-rs f-cking out.
kill beat for murder, we don’t talk it out.
homicide laws, feely n-gg-rs spark it out.

hey, listen, i’ll pop that gap like i’m slightly r-t-rded.
it’s like my body here, but my upper flight is departed.
think twice, get a coffin, you don’t wanna be a target.
you just wanna make rap songs, you don’t wanna get started.
couple of rats to a shooter, put your heat to a market.
hit your legs with a chopper, now you walk with a walker.
oh, h-ll, now, feely in the building, you heard of us, we murderers.
gillie dale, 2 1 5, n-gg-r, that’s part of us

i’m a baller, i was born a much man than chris steven
they smiff and skid belly, new n-gg-r in town with the birds, strip kelly
before we break it down, there’s a line in front of the deli,
before the show’s over, a line in front of the tele,
put ’em down, hit ’em up, hit ’em up.
f-ck, what these n-gg-rs wanna do now?
run around with a double barrel, one shot, that’s two down
homicide for the life for us, i holds my crew down
f-cking informers, i hate them. we tight, n-gg-rs, we shoot down.

years with them fillie cats, we ain’t with that silly rats.
north-west, south side, you don’t need no city map.
yes, entire rat game be ridding piggy-bank.
with the deuce, deuce, but this ain’t pity-path
real n-gg-r rather slugging than hugging.
you get money? i can’t get none with you, then f-ck it!
they just part of the struggle, they just part f the hustle.
part of the game. you part of this? ’cause we start trouble.

they say he back on rapper about the drugs he got.
but i’m a d boy from the block so f-ck it, ride or not.
cooking up is what i do, a baller make a living.
on my spare time i’m cooking rats and loading pistols.
try to rob me, n-gg-rs tried and they died for it.
ride around with no licence and a line on me.
trapping hard, blowing wild in the meanwhile.
the work running on the market, on the speed dial.
i’m high on serum, we ride with the sheriff.
you call her wife, but the whole hood share her.
big bears, feel it, they don’t mean to scare you.
my young boys run the city, their area.
heard you was scared to come back home.
n-gg-r call obh, we the backbone.
north fillie, south fillie, keep gats on.
uptown a frankfurt, my …

[chorus]

put thirties in the system.
i can taste the lane when i kissed them
court refuses to dismiss him,
so we might as well cook in the streets and the kitchen.
yeah, cubbling all smashed. 800 in the stash.
one point, i’m all in cash, but 80 on the dash
so them lights started to flash.
called the motor off the e-way.
gun in these tools, pocket full of blues,
a law abiding citizen, so, long story short,
that n-gg-r made a move, so that n-gg-r made the news.

feely, pistol banging, city of brotherly slugs
kill your brother, hit the funeral, give your mother a hug.
they gave your brother them slugs, they gave his -ss a brick
and he ain’t bring back the dove,
the city of b, city of e’s, city of me,
city of cash, shout out the roof, shout out to rye, (what up?)
the city that cuffing hard, the city wear shines,
them n-gg-rs don’t ever doubt, the nines forever spout.
outlined with chalk, city of will smith, city where i’m the king,
gillie, that’s real sh-t.
f-ck all the haters, don’t feel this.
though it get realest, my n-gg-rs is careless.

i’m some latter ville pistol vein ya,
you got’cha mind made up, i bet the pistol will change it.
the lone ranger, i dare one of you n-gg-rs to play tanto.
and get a feather put in your cat, n-gg-r, pr-nto.
my team lean so you can’t lead a purple ’round them
get them out of town, n-gg-r, i run circles around them.

- ft young chris gillie da kid cyssero spade o dark lo cassid lyrics

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