[Apocalipps] Now let me take ya'll to the dark side of things, what they didn't tell ya New York niggas kill, forensics'll smell ya We got our line-ups, some Ruthless street sweepers And the press labelled these niggas the grym reapers So light a blunt, cuz this shit is for realer And I'mma tell you why New York is the home of the most killas From murder one, kidnapping to manslaughter I'mma name these muthafuckas in alphabetical order Alpo, first up at bat, Harlem assassin Fancy cars and flashing, known for getting cash and He saved his ass when he talked to the cops and But that's after he got the murder rate in DC popping Born Black Just from Queens, Ben from Brooklyn Don't get bodied over blood, this shit is cooking You corns get caught at the corriner, baby Since we on C's, check this shit, it's crazy Colin Ferg got on the train with just a couple of quarters A nine, a newspaper, and a bottle of water Walking through the carts, plushing off his pound and his quarter He killed alot of people but he played himself as his lawyer Everybody gotta die, that's how my dogs on it I watched America's Most Wanted with Dusty, and he was on it Nineteen eighty seven, turn your pages I'mma take ya'll to the Bronx, never forget Larry Davis He mad a bad choice dealing with Satan And the pigs came for his soul and tried to replace him Now, they supplied him with the clips and the uzis But was suprised when they bust them shits and made him a movie Everybody wanna equal peace, and every killa wanna eat Since we on E, I'mma keep it on the East F it, it's the home of John Gotti In the Staten Island Shore, they kept finding them bodies Heads popped off from the gauges and shotties But it's nothing, murder in New York, it's a hobby We talk about killas, let's not be greedy Here to serve and disect you is the NYPD Fuck what you think, they tempers is short Fuck the law, Dialo never made it to court Let's go...
[Chorus: Apocalipps] What you forgot? New York's the home of the killas Now cop back them tools and make them niggas feel ya Kill, kill, kill, murda, murda, murda Kill, kill, kill, murda, murda, murda Double homicide, they keep the fear in the city And want us born everyday so the cops stay busy Kill, kill, kill, murda, murda, murda Kill, kill, kill, murda, murda, murda
[Apocalipps] Ok, put a muzzle on them pistols, please You say sex, money, murder, think of Pistol Pete Preacher's a beast, the question revolves Some many brutal manslaughters, and they case is unsolved All eyes on Sammy the Bull, the mobs lethal weapon He follows orders, take your life in a second He turned state, some still can't believe it But the fact is, catching them bodies is undefeated And lord knows we can't forget the Son of Sam With the .44, turn all his victims to spice ham And Tuff is wild, put the hole in ya nigga And last but not least we have the Zodiac Killer Now he would act you, what's your name, what's your sign Then soon as you respond, he would hit you with the nine So many killas, I can't name 'em all It should be blood dripping from your speaker, change the song Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
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