A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Saigon

"Real n*ggaz"

[Verse 1: 1st MC of Coalition9]
Everything that glitters ain’t gold
You can’t discredit the flow, so now live by the code
Nonchalantly, the cypher the spirit, my poetry’s vivid
Fall back like my ways ain’t rigid
Catch a charge in a New York minute
We set trip like I’m losing my pivot
And twist blunts like the case was acquitted
Catch a visit if you calling me out
sh*t, I’mma show you what my crew is about for running your mouth
I’mma send goons to run in your house without second-guessing
The pump’s my protection, my investment
Welcome to BK, the borough where the beef stays
It’s replays of pigs popped in the PJs
I think fast in this self-[?]
While [?] the booth, I shatter the mic like glass
Harassed by cops—a chip off the block
I’ll put Fury and Ox next to RZA and Pac
sh*t, I’m the rap Martha Stewart of stocks
Now watch me toss your demo off the roof just to hear it drop

[Verse 2: Saigon]
Look, don’t get it f*cked up—I ain’t in it to entertain
Ain’t in it for the fame, ain’t in it to get a name
I am what many consider a spitter of flames
What n*ggas done did to the game, the sh*t is a shame
Everybody’s sh*t is the same
Ninety-nine-point-ninety-nine percent of n*ggas lyrics is lame
When I spit, the room temperature change
You would swear I inherited 2Pac’s soul and both Christopher’s brains
Mind state of La Rock, wittiness of [?]
Spirit of the sidewalk, grittiness of the block
You wanna play gorilla? For what?
Drama with Saigon, sh*t’ll get uglier than Jabba the Hut
I catch you with a ill uppercut
Then watch your nose bleed enough blood for you to fill up a cup
You don’t want the 9 milla erupt
Jump out the back of a truck like “What up?!?”
Commit to clapping you up, b*tch

[Verse 3: 2nd MC of Coalition9]
Punk veteran severing heads—no new rookies
Blaze penetrate you quick like loose pus*y
I rap with the attitude of a school bully
Strapped with two fully automatics at necks
I cut your life shorter than an asthmatic’s breath
Masochist past step with traffic get clapped next
Handle my past steps, back smack you
Snap, strangle your man’s neck. It’s cold like clan setups
Mendoza bring static like broken Nintendos
I strip tracks naked like Nino Brown’s chemist
Then I inspect the premises like a dentist
Place metal in your mouth, get the shovel from the house
Then bury you next to this rap game that I’m out
Clap flame at your brain, leave you laying on the couch

[Verse 4: 3rd MC of Coalition9]
Seem like rap’s a quick meal—catch a case, hit a deal
Hustlers switch they field when fake became real
Cats’ll do anything to sell—clap themselves
Or try to hit the cover of the Doub’-XL
It’s too gimmicky. Read a book, advance lyrically
You must be kidding me. You ain’t a crook—you too jittery
Glorifying correctional facilities but
The closest you’ve been to a cell was a episode of O-z
Ounce, pound, no gram never touched your hand
Damn, you got more issues than news stands
Incriminating lines with feminine vibes
Only crimes you know about was written down in your rhymes
Only catch a charge on the courts, balling
Only lick shots when you on the courts, balling
I bang with those that move with authority, street seniority
Not them clowns that need to pledge into a sorority

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


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