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 #

Kool G Rap



[Intro: Styles P]
Premo what up baby
Pitch Black, what up baby
This is for hoods everywhere
Hood n*ggas like it pitch black
I mean that’s just how I see it
Know what I’m saying?
From YO to BK
Let’s go

[Verse 1: Styles P]
It’s Mr. Pinero, Premo and Pitch Black
We ain’t come here for the chit-chat
The sh*t got a hell of a kickback
I don’t give a f*ck, so your face like a dutch, I’ma go ahead and split that
n*ggas in the top 5, f*ck is the list at?
Everybody die where they’re popping the Cris at
2005, gun in your mouth
Brain on your wall, you’re tryna get louder than I
Ghost smoke, I’m responsible for clouds in the sky
And you couldn’t find a n*gga that’s wilder than I
The hook the same color as sh*t, n*gga
Run up and hit n*ggas, Good bless whoever you’re with, n*gga
Somebody gon’ break down and cry
When they look at your face, how the four bullets break down your eye
I’m from the place where you fake got to die
sh*t real when they catch you at the wheel and blow your face out your ride
If you forgot my name or my style
I’m the Ghost with the hornet flow with the corner smile
And the piece of sh*t car, with two 45’s
‘Bout to rob everything, I’ll be gone for a while
They ain’t let you know I’m a grind ball whenever the time calls
I find y’all, I’m taking your spine off
Let’s be serious, dead serious
If you’re with the cops, how you’re letting your nine off?

[Hook: Scratches by DJ Premier]
“Let me put you on something”
“You ain’t real”
“Know that we can go shot for shot
Verse for verse, worst gets worse, I’ll put you in a hearse”
“Just mad you will never be as nice as I am”
“Let me put you on something”
“You ain’t real”
“Know that we can go shot for shot
Verse for verse, worst gets worse”

[Verse 2: Zakee]
In the pool full of sharks, I’m a synchronized swimmer
I know when to drive and when to come up for air, I’m a winner
Spin heavy rotation for the gangster nation
Got no time for wanksters and [?]
If this is Hell, let me get my mail
And skip like bail before I tip my scale
See me, I’m a [?], so I can run fast
But I arch to let this gun blast ‘til your lungs crash
Which part of the God do you really want a part of?
The archer, the doctor, the father, or the martyr?
A wise man told me, “n*ggas in the streets don’t think
So think for ‘em, think harder, think smarter”
Leeches drink blood, dirty birds drink mud
Bum n*ggas drink suds, while studs drink water
Rewind this a few times and figure it out
If not, you might die with your di*k in your mouth


[Verse 3: G.O.D.]
Man, I can’t stop this reign, I got to take the pain
And go against the grain ‘cause I’m a real man
‘Til I sleep in the grave, I got the blood of a slave
That’s running deep in my veins and I’ma do the [?]
Think like a rebel, God and the Devil
Pulling at me from both sides and torn down the middle
I spit fire ‘til your block sizzle
If I don’t dig you, we gon’ have a head on collision within the riddle
Gangsters respect silence, and the Gods respect science
But everybody respect violence
Sad game, we all tryna win it
Streets a dead end but we fall in love with it
And you could live and die in a New York minute
For entering the forbidden, you slept where you sh*tted, n*gga
And life is only three guarantees
Taxes, death, and G.O.D

[Outro: G.O.D.]
Ha ha ha
Good looking Styles
My n*gga
We gon’ take this one from the block to the board room
You know
Pitch Black sh*t, n*gga

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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