Live From The Streets(feat Beanie Sigel Brett Kool G Rap Lyrics

Live From The Streets(feat Beanie Sigel Brett Kool G Rap lyrics

[unknown singer] 

 Ohhhhh.. senorita.. when the evening sun go down 

 I come to.. serenade you.. from another part, of town 

 [car tires peeling out]

 

 [Angie Martinez] 

 Let's get it on it's Angie Mar' reportin live from the streets 

 From Y.O. to Philly and Harlem to Q.B. 

 When it drops it's game over, you'll see 

 Introducing, Jadakiss and Styles P, where you at? 

 

 [The L.O.X.] 

 Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo 

 You know we still in the hood dog, in front of the store 

 With the work across the street and the gun in the stall 

 Soon as somethin happen niggaz wanna run to the law 

 You know the code of the streets, never run to the law 

 That's why I can't even run 'less I run with a four 

 or I walk with a three, come and talk to 'em P 

 You can catch me down bottom with a bird and a glock 

 On the block makin money where they murder a lot 

 Or you can catch me up top shootin dice for a yard 

 I'm talkin six digits, niggaz bet the house or the car 

 You can catch me hittin the spliff, sick in the pit 

 On the fiend like I'm missin my shit, they think I'm crazy 

 Catch me hittin your lady in my Mercedes 

 Bird on your baby, fuck you I'm keepin it gravy 

 L.O.X. hold the hammers 

 like we waitin for screws 

 With Angie Mar' BLOWIN MOTHERFUCKERS OUT OF THEY SHOES, WHAT? 

 

 [Angie Martinez] 

 Comin live from the streets where some died tryin to eat 

 From Y.O. to Philly, from Harlem to Q.B. 

 And when it drops, game over, you'll see 

 Introducin, Beanie Sigel, tell me how you livin? 

 

 [Beanie Sigel] 

 Aiyyo, I've been kickin murder - since Adidas with thick strings 

 T.I. sweatsuits, Pumas with thick chains 

 Four finger rings, black belts with brass names 

 I was spittin flames since niggaz was pitchin change 

 I'm a hard knock kiddo, always played the middle 

 Threw flacks in the crack game, getchu if I can getchu 

 Since a buck, played the highway, dodgin the troop boys 

 Jumpin in and out of Coupes, wavin for Duke boys 

 Always chased a penny, copped quarter waters 

 Tried to make a dollar chased my pop's boss daughters 

 Tryin to make my name, global, in all four corners 

 Philly baller, gamin in all four quarters 

 Never worked, never will - all my hoes buy my clothes 

 I can't go broke, never will - all my bros buy my O's 

 I'm the best thing that linked up with New York since Sprewell 

 I murder, nuttin further - fill in the details 

 

 [Brett] 

 I'm here, it's over, fuck how y'all feel 

 When I drop, y'all gon' realize it's all real 

 Bein left for dead, tied up, smoke 'til I was dried up 

 So high up, seem like the sky ducked, high what? 

 Life was rough, but now it's nothin to hide 

 Used to click and be quick to put this gun to yo' side 

 Be like, "That chain nice - I like that pal. 

 Matter fact {*click click*} I'd like that now." 

 You've got game? Call the name, just spell the name right 

 Brett, one of the best rappers ever to touch a mic 

 It's prophecized I'd write, spit scriptures mind blowin 

 'til my coffin top close and heaven skies open 

 Fear no man's my slogan, I hope y'all believe 

 I'm just like you, fear nuttin human that bleeds 

 My mind breed two movies, six ab-lums, a hundred poems 

 Thirty R&B joints, I'm beyond the norm, y'all just mad 

 I'm just glad, got my time to shine 

 Y'all the type to hit three hundred bars and run out of rhymes 

 

 [Angie Martinez] 

 Brett, from my ByStorm family, with Angie 

 Come live from the streets, from Harlem to Q.B. 

 And when it drops, game over, you'll see 

 Introducin, finally, the legendary Kool G. 

 

 [Kool G. Rap] 

 It's B.G.S. kid so what you facin? Caps racin 

 Decapitation twenty buck-fifties and lacerations 

 Guerilla fam' camouflaged out in the grass waitin 

 to blass your nation slash like Jason and bash your face in 

 We ass lacin top bodies and half in the basement 

 Our style, cast you so bad you'll need plastic replacement 

 When gats is raised in, fascination blastin and blazin 

 Evacuation for your whole staff there's gas in the tank and 

 Gets back abrasions from cap grazin, defy gravitation 

 Pull my shit back squeeze bust it like masturbation 

 Hold fort, hold the blow torch, leave your soul scorched 

 with no remorse, the state of New York, get your shit caught 

 When niggaz hawk, let the fifth talk 

 So tell me who's the next man to flip? 

 I stop the beef shit, with rubber handled grips 

 Your candle get lit, guerilla shit feed us banana clips 

 The hammers hit, anything in our range we dismantle it 

 

 [Angie Martinez] 

 Like to say thanks to my street correspondents, for gettin on this 

 Comin live and direct with no nonsense 

 Sorry folks for hurtin y'all, the previous has been brought to you 

 by "Up Close and Personal"