Evil Streets (remix) Lyrics

Evil Streets (remix) lyrics

featuring Method Man

Intro: Method Man

Spark that shit up
and
lets fly
Oh my people
Heyyy Ohhhh
Ahhhh Hooooo
Eiiii
Heyyy

Verse One: Sticky Fingaz

I'm a hoodlum
A dick in the
dirt is what i'm holding
Sporting mad Polo but only if its stolen
I got
no morals my mind is in the gutter
KId I'll open up your face with my orange
box cutter
Soak you when you least expect it
Before I met Russel I only
had a jail record
Plus nothing ever hurt me when I was at home
These Evil
Streets got a mind of their own
My Pops left me for dead with just the
clothes on my back
I grew up selling crack
And learning to drive a car
jack
I got street smarts and I use intuition
I can spot an undercover
with my x-ray vision
And if anybody test me out there
They gonna make me
kill them and throw away my carear
I'm my Mothers first born, Her last bad
seed

Verse Two: Fredro Star a.k.a. Never

Its all about the next
caper
The cocaine, props and acres
For the sake ah
Snatchin the green
paper
Me and my crew roll in the zone of the twilight
The news
highlight
When the next shit don't go right
Its so tight its blazing
A
nigga squeezed hayz in
got 'em geezing for a runner
Then the plot
thickens
On point like Rod Strickland
Clocks ticking
Makes the hardest
niggas clicks stop ticking
Hitting they stash
And murdering like and
expert
Cover ya tracks
And conceal that dirty shit

Chorus: Method
Man

This is for the gun slingers
noise bringers
this is for the
crack slingers
bell ringers
this is for the bootleggers
and everyday
beggers
And all my hood hustlers who know where we headin'

repeat
2X

Verse Three: Sonsee

Its all about the $50,000 cars
Dice
games and ice chains
We out of the average niggas price range
Rings and
Remy mixed with Henny
Chicks with Fendi sucking disk in the Infinity
This
nigga had mad deco
Fucking petro the nickel metro Blow
All you heard was
the gun echo
On a dead nbight I get my head right
Running red lights no
headlights
Pumping Buddah in a black Benz
Pulling out Mac 10's
Its
just the smell of fucking cigarettes
Broke niggas with assed out
Took 2
puffs and passed out
Woke him up with 21 shots of penicillin
amped him
up
I guess thought it was hempacillin
Yo chill kid lamp kid, chill kid
you livin'
Aye yo JB hit me one time

Verse Four: Method
Man

Its the Blaze that be Johnny
Not many shots can do that ass
raunchy
Lyric to the muzak we rolling
Watch out for the niggas that be
holding
Raunchy fucking up your colon
Of course its Tical
Verbal
assault
We can walk these dogs through all 5 boroughs of New York
Some
talk
While other individuals walk
In my square tryin' to hide
thoughts
Spreading lies in my ears
Got me questioning my peers
That be
show and prove they don't belong here
I be the Chef in Hells Kitchen
Pop
in the clip and hit the DJ if the records skipping
My competition gotta keep
me at arms distance
I know myself onion head niggas don't listen
I shoot
the what
Got no time for that wiz bitchin'
I'm about to blow in 5
seconds
The clocks ticking consider this another mission
impossible as he
gets hostile
Uncut blowing up your nostril
We There
Come on take
another if you dare
The reason why its so raw cause its real
I swear by
the hairs on my Chin Chiggy Chin
To the day I die I represent the Grimy
niggas
The ones who can't afford Tommy Hillfigger
The down and dirty
Johnny fill Niggas

Yeah

Chorus 2X