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| 1. |
| 3:23 | 
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I'm just a picture in a frame
man, I paint word pictures on the canvas of life but I don't control the colors Yo, I'm ten steps ahead of niggas, that shit scary sometimes I feel ahead of myself I hear this voice in the back of my mind like "Mac maintain, just grind, dog, better yourself" So what I do?, I take heed and pick up the pace can't explain it when I pick up my son & look at my face I'm like a black rose growin' in the concrete crack in the pavement there that voice go again "Mac practice for greatness, get paid for them immaculate statements" Keep thinkin of them hotlines, like a physic, I can't explain it There's no pen when I write it, there's nothing like it.. God damn, what you want from me, what you want me to tell you huh? Niggas thought that I would stutter huh, thought I was dumb But I ain't used to use my mind, I used to just... use my 9 and run wild with my boys, in the streets wild with these wars now the Qu'ran and 48 laws, they polish my floors I'm moving niggas like puppets with no strings attached It's nothin' for Beans, so you know it ain't a thing for Mac to look in your eyes, see through your heart, know what you fearin' pick you apart, like you niggas is transparent (I see right through you niggas) It's like Mac was born with advanced parents I'm like the Sun shining at night, imagine it dog, I know you wanna see me gradually fall but I'm walkin on air, braking every gravity law nothing like it... I spit words that skip through air let the words of a true thug hit your ear, it change colors like blue blood when it hit the air it's nothin' like it... God damn, shit, I can't explain it Fuck y'all niggas I changed my whole life.. in about 9 months, just like sperm in a womb these young niggas never learn 'til they doomed try to tell them "you can burn young punk, without smelling the fuse" make you shiver in the middle of June, paintin' pictures so vivid, you can hang it up in your room shine bright like a prism, displaying colors like Crayola think of the prisons with straight soldiers think about the niggas who fucked us and played over us think about the mothers who suffered and prayed over us Just look at the the picture I've painted, it's so perfect open your eyes motherfuckers, you can't duck us no survivors every soul shall suffer, I'm loadin them revolvers every shell shall touch ya I promise I'll light your ass with these mags, I'ma bust ya God damn it's nothin' like it, I'm serious can't explain how I write it.. |
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| 2. |
| 4:14 |
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You know my name, bitch Uhh.. yeah.. hold up The streets gave me heat, and the Eagle was the thing that they gave me It's the rap guerilla that still clap.. fucka Yeah, guess who's back? [Verse 1] Mack, bitch - I move blocks and pounds I move out with small blocks from towns Move out with small glocks and pounds (uh-huh) And I take everything to the table bag and rock it down Fuck who watchin now; the neighbors, they in pocket now Fuck you haters cop some pocket now When it come to coke you cant outwit me, mine cheap Bout to take over the city of Philly like John Street Nigga ask all y'all fiends, they call me Chef Boyar-Beans Beanie Crocker, cook coke proper Right amount of flour siffin it up Coke spots runnin by the hour shiftin it up Graveyard shifts, move packs in bundles Braveheart kids, use gats don't rumble Gorilla niggaz goin ape in this concrete jungle Banana clips'll make them monkeys humble [Chorus] BEANIEEEEEEEE! Sigel was the name that they gave me BEANIEEEEEEEE! Sigel was the name that they gave me BEANIEEE, BEANIEEE - Sigel was the name that they gave me BEANIEEEEEEEE! Yeah, but guess who back [Verse 2] It's Mack, bitch - uh-huh, back in the mix or the scuffle I'm in the hood with them chips like Ruffles Boxman, Frito Lay, for that free dough boxin You will lay, nigga I'm not playin Listen, whether I make cash or take cash I'm in the hood eatin with my dog like when we break-fast Beans on the hood in the wheel in the brake pads Yeah when I skate past, bitches shake ass I sit four-thirty deep in wheels You bout, four-thirty cheap in wheels - small Benz Look at your small rims, small wheel, small grill Big Beans, sittin in Bentley my heart peels Zero to sixty so quickly how you want it? You can have it Drop top, stick shift, automatic Back wheels still smokin 64 still rolling, 3 wheel motion, it's ferocious [Chorus] [Verse 3] Mack, aiyyo On the low doe (shh!) the whole city is mine I'm trying to flood the whole city with dimes (yeah) I'm in the kitchen yeah, with that vision wear Get them digits clear you can come and get them pigeons here Niggaz talk about the crack game slowed up, BULLSHIT You switch to hustle when the rap game showed up (uh-huh) While you wastin your time spittin the rhymes I'm gettin mine spittin them rhymes, but still pitchin them dimes And the spot still sick with da grime Glock 26 nigga but I'm sicker than nine I'm live with the pound, small silencer timeless sound Stick with the seven, strickly smith with the seven (shit) When I drop back and cock back And pop that, I'm poppin for keeps - I'm not gettin stopped mad peace Imagine that a nigga tryin to rock Mack Only nigga did it was Jay and he did it when I signed the contract [Chorus] - 2X |
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| 3. |
| 5:07 |
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Aiyyo Memph what's wrong with these niggas man?
These niggas ain't sayin shit man These niggas on mute man I'ma make you blind motherfuckers feel some real Aiyyo the guc is here dog I'm back to work I took time off a couple niggas had to get hurt Due to the fact they wack and wasn't strapped Packin they gat, now they layin' flat In six in green (you know wut i mean?) Man I need a new gat for that Yo, I'm the coke copper plus the rock chopper Down wit M. Bleek, the Marcy prock clocker One wreck, the other destroy And with that bullshit vest on, I'm killin' your boys I don't play when it come to yae I cop cook and collect my dough in one day Book rock and collect my dough at one show False looks, Memph let one go from the floor [Memphis Bleek] Yo, yo Well I'm known to be the master in the M.C. field Oh-oh got respect, oh-one I still Tote guns to the show and then I jet wit a hoe Bitch niggas want to front and get clapped Get on the floor, clap a second time And make sure I flat-line you Let a whole round go, hit niggas behind you See the gleam on the glock, know the beam on top Get shot, popped, and drop, yo the team is the Roc As I glance at Mack, a-k-a B-Sigel Know we comin' with the macks and the extra Eagles I'm not playin, you dudes know what I'm sayin' I make a call to my dogs, them niggas comin' through sprayin' What you sayin? [Chorus] [Sigel] I'm puttin heads to beads, gun straight out the box B-Sige, I put up all the roofs and glocks I'm not playin, see these guns that I'm sprayin? |
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| 4. |
| 4:59 |
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ayo,I'm
beanie sigel and i came to get down and rock tha mic wit my ****** freeway okay so i'm *** oh *** ** you got da way free way yes y'all i came to get down and get **** and tryin' my luck and not givin' **** six stunna man don't you and yo' people undastand betta undastand yo self and yes i came to get down . |
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| 5. |
| 4:41 |
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Hmm, shit, I don't do much
Y'knawmean? Smoke weed, fuck bitches, huh Get paper cuts from countin money... I just be chillin, y'knawmean? Menage trois, knawmean? Quadrupla trois... Y'knawmean? Shit I don't do much All that shit, what you expect man? [Verse 1] Yo, I don't do much, you know Mac stay sucker free So please don't fuck with me You don't really want war You don't really want the heat from the four You don't really wanna eat out a straw Man you niggas is broke, y'all niggas aint got no cash Man you niggas aint got no stash Where your wheel and your rims? Motherfucker look at the heel on your Timbs Nigga your walk and your talk you niggas is ass Shit, I don't do much, you know Mac, lay in the cut In the 'telly somewhere layin a smut Champelly, purple hayin it up Front row A layin it up Or in the kitchen prob'ly weighin it up Or in a mission prob'ly sprayin shit up Niggas playin too much I try to chill but they be sayin too much But you know they dont say it to me They don't play wit me You shit where you eat, you might as well lay in your pee Shit, I don't do much I don't do much Shit, I don't do much Y'knawmean? Fuck... Fuck, I don't do much I be chillin man, I don't know about y'all though Shit I don't do much [Verse 2] I roll a L, go in the booth Spark it up, start blowin the truth I don't do much, I smoke weed, pop pills, sip water Fuck it, keep it real, keep steel, give orders Suckers, give out halves, squrrlies, y'all call it quarters Youngun, take this eightball, cuz you take long And please, don't make me use this eight long Cuz you could get all six up in your acorn And trust me... Y'all don't want that Y'all don't want Mac to snap on you cats You don't really want no problems You don't layin under your squatter You don't want me fire bombin your house You don't want me duct tapin your mouth Better yet, pourin lye in your mouth You don't want me smackin up your kids You don't want me layin up in your trash Poppin up, then I'm poppin your ass Cuz you won't do shit I don't do much Shit, I don't do much Y'knawmean, I just be chillin I be smokin man I don't be thinkin about y'all niggas man (I don't do much) Y'knawmean, I be chillin Shit, I don't do much [Verse 3] I just chill up in the middle of the block Watch my younguns make a killin on the block Tell 'em watch trucks who be wheelin through the block Get shot, get shucked with vans chillin on the block Shit, I don't do much, I just chill and relax alot I don't hustle, I just tax the block Shit, I don't do much, I just roll out and play wit tools That make you faggots obey the rules Shit, y'all don't do much But drink 40's, look dumb on the block Damn near 40, still runnin from cops Y'all don't do much Y'all niggas aint stackin no cash That shit you pack got a crack in yo' ass Y'all don't give a fuck, y'all gon' get cuffed And I'ma laugh when y'all get stuck Shit, I don't do much Heh, y'knawmean, y'knawmean? I don't do much I don't give a fuck man, smoke weed, get high Fuck bitches, that's my biz (I don't do much) Y'knawmean? I don't do much Y'knawmean four pound? Shit, I don't do much I don't do much And I don't give a fuck |
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| 6. |
| 4:13 | 
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| 7. |
| 3:47 |
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As far back as I can remember I always wanted to be was a
gangster... (Watch your bitches!) Hey yo I walks like a pimp, talks like a mack Spit lobster and shrimp, you could tell by the hat Gators and flavors, colors like now & laters Split champagne wishes to bitches, trips to Vegas Jot down numbers on small pieces of paper I got ya, skate, watch these bitches catch the vapors Breaks down doe over a hoe? Spend my chips over a trick? I don't rock no masquino shit I don't know know labeled me no trick Biatch! You should pay me for dick All I'm gone do is fuck you crazy Bust a couple nuts, get lazy Bust another nut, it's Swayze Tell your ass don't page me, see you when I see you You need doe for what? Wouldn't wanna be you Yeah I'm a break you off, after I stroke you off When I break you off, biatch! That's when I broke you off Tell your ass get lost Only thing I'm gonna pay for, is to be the boss Can't see me giving no skee's my cheese Tell 'em like they tell Bean's, I got four seeds to feed Till I fuck you and some change fall out of your ass (watch your bitches!) Biatch! Ain't nothing changed, I'm all about the cash *Hey yo I walks like a pimp, talks like a mack Spit lobster and shrimp, you could tell by the hat Gators and flavors, colors like now & laters (watch your bitches!) Leave you jelly like fishes Niggas watch your bitches x2 You know Mack pop fly bitch No Jonny Gill 'round my bitch Bye Bye bitch Fuck that red dress on, get a head step on Speed on 'for you get peed on When I piss, I don't miss (Shit) Get mad, scratch your ass, and get glad 'For I, scratch your ass and get Glad-bags Throw your shit out on the trash B-Mack, pimp-slash Hustla, muthafucka! But, back to the sript When I'm twisted off that sip You know my twist, Mack on that lick On that super hero juice but could handle my cake Quick to throw bags, zams, and cakes Cocktails come banana and grape Yellow and purple, everything mellow in your circle Feeling like metal can't hurt you Got that pro meth 'itch (Watch your bitches!) Keep a hoe in check quick off that pro meth shit *Repeat (x2) I don't gotta play games and chase a hoe Spend cheese, say please, and lace a hoe Man, all my bitches know to SUCK me off and hit the door Especially if I hit before, They know the rutine, Dick to jaw, I don't give a bitch shit but game And spit that like Rudy Raymoore Man my whole squad play on tours That's all we do is play on whores That's up to you if you pay for yours I might let 'em run around in the apartment Just don't steal shit or spill shit on the carpet You know the address, apartment 3F Find you, fuck you, and flee, and my man Bleek next *Repeat (x2) |
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| 8. |
| 5:34 |
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Think it's a game 'til them thangs come out
I bang out 'til your brains hang out.. .. cause you're fuckin with a gangsta nigga, a gangsta nigga Think it's a game 'til them thangs come out I bang out 'til your brains hang out.. .. cause you're fuckin with a gangsta nigga, a gangsta nigga [Beanie Sigel] It was a, full moon in the beginnin of March Bout the end of Winter '74 The gangsta was born, introduced to sinnin and spinnin women Cats with big hats slammin Cadillac doors Who choosin hoes, you losin hoes, you niggaz loose witcha hoes You motherfucker y'all ain't used to no hoes Niggaz wanna LoJack, track your bitches, shack your bitches I pimps up, smack my bitches You wanna fuck trick your bitches I duck flip my bitches, get that cash with that extra ass bitch Plus I keep a gat at arm reach You ain't no hustler youse a car thief, nigga where your car keys? Crack topic, back block it Thirty-one long black top it, you can't stop it, gat top it Black Mack, black glock it, blast rocket Sit your faggot-ass on your back pocket (bitch) It's not a game, prick [Chorus] [Jay-Z] Straight gangsta nigga.. uhh, uh-huh-UHH-UHH Straight gangsta nigga.. yeah They call me, Hov' the hustler, dough doubler Drove customers crazy in the late 80's, early 90's Now you can find me, girlie behind me, holdin my mink up Ice pinkie ring in the air, drinkin my drink up Top down, 'dro in the air, blowin that stink up It's seldom that I smoke, but it helps my thinker Makes me a, mathematician about my math Get celebrity ass, I'm a statistician - rap with precision Nigga, |
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| 9. |
| 3:50 |
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Yeah, this a man's world pricks, no broads allowed
All my niggaz with that raw allowed All my niggaz with they fours allowed who won't hesitate to bang a nigga - right in between they brows Let's roll, fuck them bitch-ass niggaz, wearin thongs and skirts Tryin to catch 'em while they goin to work Hit them niggaz on they job at they lunch break, make the pump quick Leave 'em ump-slayed when the fuckin pump spray I roll with a sick all-out squad Ten deep, let's roll-out squad Bring heat when it's cold outside Mack stick to script and stick to street Stick in clip and flip your Jeep Got extended shit and different heat Mack M-1 double now [bluk, bluk, bluk] I'm knockin feathers out your bubble-down Stop the blood claat cryin Blood claats from the iron, you're dyin, no lyin [Chorus: Beanie Sigel] This a man world nigga, sit down you girl niggaz "This is a man's world!" ->[James Brown] Man, this a man world nigga, sit down you girl niggaz "This is a man's world!" ->[James Brown] This a man world nigga, man.. man.. "This is a man's world!" ->[James Brown] This a man world nigga, FUCK what people think [Beanie Sigel] This a man's world bitch, all you whores bow down It's B. Sig., I pimp like TA-DOW - peep game I sling meth in vials, hit your kitchen cook your pies up Bring the coke back in piles, I'm that (?) .. .. oh yeah I almost forgot Bitch, get a foot up your ass if you don't get your foot on that ave and start lookin for cash Just get mine right, your money like, don't make me come out there I smacked you whore and get you done right there Leave this imprint 'cross your forehead, from the moray Bitch know my forte, I'm not for-play Hit your block, let the glock four-play Finger fuckin a trigger is not fore-play One more time - I'm not for-play It's a man's world - how it's supposed to go Only the soldiers roll, you young like (?) though I move like Sonny, but never backwards Weave in and out of traffic, holdin that package Weight don't get moved, it get pressed off the bench Move through an alley and a hole in the fence I see when you move you tense It's a man's world nigga, sit down you girl niggaz It's a man's world kiko, they shoulda told you from the get-go that you fuckin with them South Philly sickos Think it's all raps 'til them gats start to hit you Black talons cripple, Operation Lockdown the town with them nickels Dopeman, dopeman! But peep it, I ain't goin to court I bang people that be goin to court And know people I ain't goin for shorts Bring straight money, cake money That tan coat, razor blade, straw plate money That grab coke, never weigh to pay for it money Grab toast laser hater break for it money Shit, you think you fast? Run nigga, dumb nigga Don't get your skin grafted up, chin tacked up Fuck around, and get your men racked up Whatchu think all the gats is for, you can't last a war It's a man's world nigga, sit down you girl niggaz [Chorus] |
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| 10. |
| 3:42 |
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(Yo) Who wanna fuck wit', the fat boy of the Roc?
(blldddttt) stick em, ha, another victim Mac pullin' capers again Fuck with that money paper then Light as a rock, gonna light up the block Don't believe in cases, goin all out Paintin' faces, switch my picture, like tradin' places For that money what? Everybody hands up, or hands down money tucked I flip the money trucks, money I don't give a fuck Ay money, shut the fuck up It's only a stickup You don't stand a chance, give it quick up You 'bout to turn into an ambulance pickup Enough with the cocky stuff, fuck all that stocky stuff Don't get smacked like a hockey puck I ain't wit' that rocky stuff I'm strapped got this gat (Blah blah blah blah) What? [Chorus: Kurupt and Beanie 2x] Gangsta gangsta, tell me how you do it It seems so simple, like there was nothing to it One more time run through it, everybody hands up Alright hands down money tucked [Beanie Sigel] I'm on fire like a molotov cocktail I'm high off them cocktails Dangerous gone broke, my aim is no joke Duct taped, roped, strangle your folks Box cut across the throat (nope) Bang the four 'till it's broke Prey on niggas in a circlular pattern Catch you playin' craps, car in reverse I'm circlin' back Man I stay up in them dice games, fuck a ice chain A Ice ring, I'm tryin' to come up on some nice change Incase a nigga might swing, they gets a might thang Pull out the right thang, show em it's a spike thang Make you do the right thing, like a Spike Lee joint Bang that pussy and his right knee joint You get the sergeant and cap couldnc12 |
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| 11. |
| 3:55 |
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[Beanie:] Yeah Sparks in here, The Truth in here
[Sparks:] Yeah [Beanie:] Yeah - Witness - Tales of a Hustler [Sparks:] Im going to ride nigga [Beanie:] Ya Know - This just the life we live uh, this just the life we lead [Sparks:] Yeah Yeah Gangsta [Beanie:] Tales tales [Sparks:] Gangsta! Yeah [Sparks:] Sugar coat [Sparks] Omillio Sparks the young gun My life as an adolescent said I'll go through something Other guys try to stand in my way like brick walls So I kept guns in my palm like Mesiah scripts in Psalms I should fear no man but God So lord knows we could get it on Guns baptized guys testing my pride Clearing my conscience in the liquor store With a fifth of Thunderbird but I be guzzling hard Playing the corners with a washed up old-head Chant tunes by the Whispers Same corner where I banged at with niggaz Cops drive by and grin on us If they grabbed then one of them nosey neighbors done snitched on us (Again?) Hey this game juicy got me puffing looseys Every two days interigated by the police See, this life I live cost more than your Roley's money It cost my homie Nook his whole life, ya heard me? When he was here it was easy to love him like a brother Now thats he's gone I find it difficult to talk to his mother I mean - What do you say to a woman That's just lost her only son to the game and the gun, except mami |
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| 12. |
| 4:40 |
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I just hear mom praying, I just hear gran sayin...
"Somebody oughta just, reach out and, help me..." Eight decades and four years and gran still kickin Look at ma, still whippin Still keep a strap, won't hesitate to give the kids whippins Tryin to make it to heaven, still livin Make a visit, stop by the weed spot grab a dub I know grams gon' have me a grub I hit the front door, smell aroma of her food cookin My favorite, a pot of rice and her stewed chicken Hit the basement, holla at Uncle Doc Nephew, wit Snu kickin Where dudes, what's your new mission We bust it up he cold frontin I know this nigga wanna hold somethin I know grams upstairs preppin for church Matchin up her hat, shoes, pocketbooks and skirts I break her off some dubs, so she can go see the preacher man Even though I know he false teachin, damn "Ooooh..." All I hear is grams prayin, I keep hearin moms sayin, shit "Somebody oughta just, reach out and, help me..." That's all I hear is moms prayin, I keep hearin grams sayin... "Somebody oughta just reach out and, help me..." Don't cry mama, your baby boy done weathered the storm And I found peace right here in your arms By the way, how you gettin along, huh? I know it's been tough bearing the pain since daddy's been gone But, all in all, you still stood tall and never shedded a tear I'm thankin God you still here Cause, only heaven knows all my heartaches and setbacks Goin from a high school dropout to shovelin wet wax I'm never gon' forget that, look in your eyes, [look in your eyes] When you told me that my grandfather died It was like nothing had happened, [naw] and I'm knowin that you miss him But to accept death, is just the side of a good Christian And I miss him, just words, and I lived it in life [lived it in life] and I take it ste |
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| 13. |
| 4:22 |
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For the record y'all.. uh-huh..
I know you hear me.. for the record y'all.. [Beanie Sigel] _Dynasty_ album, track 16, listeners fret I can't take back that sixteen Shit the truth spoke, I gotta give the world true quotes Can you feel it? I know the truth hurts They say, |
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| 14. |
| 4:24 |
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When I was five years old, I realized it was a road But at the end, I ain't seen lots of pots of gold I seen a long cell block, the box, the hold Six hundred fenced in - some innocent, some rotten souls Some men with men - stop it, whoa I ain't runnin up in shit but a broad on her back Tryin to cop a small hammer, move out like +Shawshank+ with +Redemptions+, I got my mind on revenges They tryin to kill me at the same time keep me alive I'm movin out like Adebisi on +Oz+ With my skully on tilt, two whacks in my palm Posted up in the yard, everyday I think of pokin the guard Throw a crack a nigga turnin me in Tryin to crack a nigga turnin me thin Food soakin in lard, news fools get opened in cards with (??), in this prison life, what you livin like? [Chorus] Can you tell me what you live like? Can you tell me what that bed like, what's that cell like? What's livin in hell like? Tell me do you eat right? Do you even sleep right? Yo, tell me what your life like Tell me do you sleep nights, tell me what that life like? Gettin no kites like, no flicks like Make you wanna quit life [Beanie Sigel] Them four letters is a motherfucker That's forever like a motherfucker Without a letter from a motherfucker? It ain't even bout the cheddar from a motherfucker Write a kite, some flicks from a motherfucker Some drawers, some socks, some kicks from a motherfucker I can't believe I'm doin this bid for you motherfuckers I'm down for another joker case I was dealt this hand, and I'ma play it with my poker face On the block ready to POKE a face I got an L goin around with a smokin case? You steal the deoderant out of CVS, you locked for retail theft I got it body half a block stolen DT vest My rap sheet read three D abreast Dangerous, duct tape daughters I take to the street, like a duck take to water Get your duck game in order My bust game in order, I fluffs 'caine with water [Chorus] [Beanie Sigel] That's fucked up, you bout to take your longest trip and can't do shit, but suck it up, be strong and shit Handcuffed, ankle to wrist, in back of the bus Flashbacks of you back in the world Can't fuck now you thinkin bout who in back of your girl Got her ass up (kill this bitch) playin your crib Thinkin bout who raisin your kids Shit was all good a week ago, 'fore they came and raided your crib 6:30 in the morning, they kick your door in Feds pour in, snatch you out your bed while you snorin You unaware of what's goin on and Come to find out, clients you had for years, turned to foreman Told the law about the drops you make How your clientele first started to escalate Givin him keys to your crib, was your next mistake At that dinner table, breakin out that extra plate You can't turn a career addict off his coke habit Put him on post with the toast that promote static Back to the operation, they got you locked at the station Fuck your back time, you worryin about what you facin Heart racin, situation gettin scary Old clients are showin up, at the preliminary D.A. tryin to bury a nigga to Neveruary, 31st God damn, that gotta hurt |
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