Shout Out To Lost Boyz Lyrics

Shout Out To Lost Boyz lyrics

[DJ Clue] 
Yeah, DJ Clue, Desert Storm, all up in ya area 
with the LB Fam, Love Peace and Nappiness 
A little sample, but first.. 
My man Canibus, gon' rip sh*t down, ha ha 
 
[Canibus] 
Yo, yo, YO 
Lost Boyz the Beasts from the East up in this piece 
with a new release on the streets every fifty-two weeks 
and I dare a nigga to challenge us; I turn the 
Love Peace and Nappiness into your blood on a napkin in the ambulance 
f**kin with the nigga called Canibus, just the sound 
of my voice'll give you a positive urine analysis 
I'm a lyrical demon, stronger than crack fiends 
that smoke two P's with a C in between em 
LB Fam, makin the music niggaz dance to 
And we sip a very substantial amount of Jack Daniels 
L-O-est, B-O-Y-Z we lock sh*t 
We invested all of Legal Drug Money profit 
Showin love to each and every nigga that copped it 
In they Jeep, Lex Coupe, Beema or Benz knockin it 
Music Makin You High, givin you that urge 
to spend two-thirds of the money you earned on herb 
You're f**kin with the LB Fam, we do what we gotta do 
You never get the chance to shoot back at who shot at you 
Nigga, you'll be dead before you reach the hospital 
Lookin at you layin there with blood comin out your nostrils 
Queens most wanted, quick to clap a nigga 
Rap at killers who wear Carharts and Caterpillers 
Totin the four-pound, holdin the fort down 
before Heavy D bounced to Uptown became a ghost town 
Cheeks, Lou and Thai see eye to eye 
Spig sees eye to thigh, bein the shortest 
but he still gets busy on the one and two's regardless 
Heard about the Clue tape, so I had to get on it 
Lost Boyz and Desert Storm, Show Us the Money 
cause we STILL hungry, we STILL got the growl in the tummy 
We STILL grimy and grungy, dressin bummy 
Doin shows for foreign currencies in other countries 
Tryin to finance me a Hum-Vee with low mufflage 
Get a production deal, start our own record companies 
Sign our own acts, and rhyme about whatever we wanna rap 
Decorate our walls with plaques 
Summertime eighty-nine or better degree weather 
Nine-seven DJ Clue and LB Fam forever 
 
[DJ Clue] 
WHAT?! DJ Clue, all up in ya area 
 
[Canibus] 
Yo yo yo hold up I don't think niggaz know man 
I'm gonna rock some more, check it out, yo, yo 
Now just by watchin you, I can tell that I got you 
to face me, somethin you don't wanna do, my rhymes 
are too hostile, they'll beat you down in public like the cops do 
Sit on top of you, make a human pinata out of you 
Flow as potent as possible, creatin obstacles Three Feet 
High and Rising, like the chronicles of Posdonus 
The old school hip-hop, is where I get my style from 
Uptown Harlem, is where I get my lye from 
My cousin with mad guns, is where I get the nines from 
Area 51 is where I be gettin rhymes from 
I'm not a human being 
I'm the human being ill with a I.Q. that's off the scale 
If words could kill, a verse of mine'll murder a mil' 
And MC'sll be gnashin they teeth, burnin in hell 
I'm learnin to be the head instead of the tail 
I ain't followin nobody else to increase my sales 
Metaphors are real, like they been forged in steel 
Stood before the judge told him I was forced to kill 
And how I went for mines to get Paid in Full 
Then I went for minds again and ripped em out of niggaz skulls 
The nigga on the block with the biggest balls, layin niggaz 
on the floor, robbin em too a Biggie Smalls song 
"Turn your head round," give me the cheddar 
I'd rather be a lion for a day than a lamb who lives forever 
"Turn your head round," give me the cheddar 
I'd rather be a lion for a day than a lamb who lives forever *echoes*