Streetlife

(feat. Size/7)

[Intro: Streetlife (Size/7)]
Yeeeeeaah! Yeah
Ain't where you from (it's where you at)
You got the blunt (I got the Mac)
You got the clip (I got the gat)
You got the {*click, click*}
You got the clip (I got the gat)
I got my front (I gotcha back)
It's like.. it's like that
It's like that - Yeah..
It's like that - Yeah, yeah

[Streetlife]
Shaolin What!?! Blood, God and monster truck
Come through, splash mud on ya three-piece tux
Niggas act bulletproof like they can't get touched
Don't make me hop out the sunroof and start hittin you up
I'm outta control when the dough's low, rob and tote
Never vacated a hoe, bomb with cons and pros
I might snatch ya jewels, pawn ya gold
Call P.O. and be like - FUCK PAROLE!
Y'all have got to go and became a mould
Watch me drop and load, FIRE IN THE HOLE!
Here to change the game, started sayin names
When ya ass get shot, the cops know who the blame
You watch too much movies, wanna be all talk and Kane
2Pac, everybody wanna act the same
Feel my pain, rap niggas dyin for fame
Feel my pain, rap niggas is dyin for fame

[Chorus: Streetlife (Size/7)]
(You Wanna Rap?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC?
(Tote the Mac?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC?
(Lounge in the back?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC?
(Platinum plaques?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC?

[Streetlife]
Most of y'all rap cats is weak, talk is cheap
Check my rap sheet, concrete, strictly Street
I put in work, overtime, I build with sleek
Hail, rain, sleet, I walks the beat
Fucks, M.O. - no justice, no piece
Fuck the judge, for feedin my thugs to the beast
I know the ledge thats why I keeps one in the head
Make one false move, fill ya body with lead
I'm true to the game, stay true to my name
Off the chain? Quick to put two in ya brain
I'm from the Hill, where niggas shoot to kill
Test my skill, nigga I wish you will
Don't front for me, give niggas lumps in three
I beat you down in front ya mom, wife and seed
Call ya monks, I'm out to call ya bluff
You ain't enough, word up, you straight ass and butt
Shaolin What!?!

[Chorus: Streetlife (Size/7)]
Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (You Wanna Rap?)
Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Tote the Mac?)
Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Lounge in the back?)
Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Platinum plaques?)
Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Stretch Caddilac?)
Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Blow ya stack?)
Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Flip ya hat?)
Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Pimp like The Mack?)

Take em to war son (Yeah)
Yo wassup dog?
Seven commandments, knahmean?
Yo son, with the seven commandments

Chorus: (6x)
Yo I'm about the army shit, the raw shit
The military war hits with gun clips

(Shogun Assasson)
Yo, my battleground's where I lounge
Fightin wars from dusk til dawn
In the trenches of hell
There's more blood spilled than Hamburger Hill
The planet Earth is the battlefield
Enemy troops can't come face to face with death
Black mission caught for cold steel
The last art drill when I open fire
Better aim to kill
As the destruction that I reveal like revelations
Drop Jews like parables that can't be seen with the eye like constellations
You're lost in the nation with no mental vision
Unseen strikes your vital like precision
I'm camouflged in the large with ammunition

(9th Prince)
I'm in deep meditation like the great Indian monk Dowmo
Lyrical desperados thrown like a torpedo from black masks like Zorro
I froze all the scriptures and literature of killers
Riddlers and Hitlers
Sick photographers who paint bloody pictures
Wu-Tang is the foundation, we movin populations
And you can not stand then control the minds of Asians
Candy cat raps gets your tongue cut off and run through his back
Sabotage savages got stabbed as I watched blood drip from their fabrics
Madman ran up in the church and stuck the reverend
Stabbed him with a cross, some say he was stuck by the seven
The seven commandments
Metric equivalents
Meaning many niggas died for pleasures

(Dom PaChino)
I wagin guerilla warfare, supply the yellow jackets
Each one containin a mini sovereign homing missile
Fittin your sides ragged
Puerto Rican terrorist from the Middle East refusin the mark of the beast
Increase your energy by one bar while I unleash
Thoughts that remain on your brain like scars for life
Made possible by the mic device
I slice wieldin a sharp instrument
Sharpened in the temple of pyramids
Used to drill a hole through the minds of the ignorant
It's my assignment burn up the climate usin rays from the sun
Dom PaChino madman assassinatin tracks with Shogun

(Street Life)
Yo bring it on, I deal with this like my first born
My brain form blow MCs away like Desert Storm
21st century crime for you being born
US currency got me itchin my palms
P.L.O. killer tactics like I support a fact
Dead back was the feedback, Park Hill's badass
I deal with this shit like it's my last
So to speak what you say son go have a blast
I'm livin for the city, I burn as the world turn
First degree poetry
Hold your headpiece, when I release I clear the streets
Killarmy passed the heat so I'ma dead the piece
P.L.O. is the Street Life out in the streets

(Beretta 9)
Mentally I be ready, pass the machette
My thoughts travel fast like Mario Andretti
Racin through this hellhole or ghetto through the poverty
It's all about survival so I can risk the robbery
Goin through the struggle, trials and execution
This is my solution to this revolution
Pay close attention, lyrical precision
My mind be my war guide, observe, learn and listen
Knowledge before your wisdom unleashed for the children
'96 be buildin the stat or be killed in

(feat. Street Life)

(Masta Killa)
As we return, to the 36 Chambers
The RZA, the GZA
The Ol Dirty BZA
U-God, Chef, the Ghostface Killah
And Meth, Rebel I soldier for the foreclosure
Don't forget about the Masta, yo

Motherfuckers halt, when my Colt, start stompin
Thunder, strikes your land with a jolt
Your stamina level is low, like currents from
the volts of relentless punishment that multiplies
At a speed that the naked eye can't die-tect
the infantry, peep the weapon-try as I bomb atomically
Stagnant they stood surrounded and astounded
by this total square mileage of violence that I brung
I've not yet begun to stung
It's the ethics, the rigorous training methods
of the Abbott, incite overseas to opposition
Penetrates then infiltrates
Breakin down your resistance
Leavin competition defenseless, Masta
Hip-hop antagonizer, dumb deaf and blind civilizer
with the silencer

(U-God)
Psssh, yo
Pile-driver Tut boulder face blow Hulk
Anger rap book causin chess blade smoke
Minds the trunk, punk, elephant gun poke
Jaw-breaker humanoid vice-grip, choke
Face the inferno, maestro, pull it
Pipe hard slang, bite the golden bullet
Never, sold my soul Golden Arm cold stinger
See me on the streets address me stone bringer
Ease away, freeze back, feedback, play out in
sweet action packed rap
Bite it, stomp on a beat
Posess hollow head battle teeth Tony Atlas
Wu status, now, wisdom to the masses

(RZA)
Cock back my tongue like a hammer, my head is like
a nickel-plated bammer, spit forty-five caliber grammar
At the speed of wind makes you bleed within
Crack your skull, without penetratin your skin
Reign of champ official, Wu scamp with black pistols
Spent the weekend programmin fat tracks at Camp Cristal

(Method)
Home on the range, rebel with a pen
writin critically acclaimed scriptures that do you in
Mista, Meth, Hot Nickels
Say my shit holding my Sex Pistol, deal me in

(RZA)
The bewilderin killa bee quickly sting ya
I ain't gotta lift one fuckin finga
Make sure the God I-reef turns on the ringer, we duckin the subpeona
Fatal Flying Guillotine machine from Medina

(MK) Check the 150 millimeter
heater as it blows holes through your fuckin speaker
(U-God) Makin you weaker creepin inches centimeters
(GZA) Fifty caliber street sweeper
Shots from Shaolin that go to Masapeaqua

(Method)
Things'll never be the same, after this one
Ghostrider spit flame, lay back and twist one
Recognize the Gods came, for one accord
For one mind and one cause, that's the shit Son
Play them crows out position
You might hear me but you don't listen
Competition come and get some on
Red marker still bleedin, through the paper
of his sick premeditated, murder caper

(Street Life)
I walk with the Shaolin strut, burn a dutch
Watch Street eat em up, cold crush, bumrush
Spot rusher get touched backed up handcuffed
Y'all niggaz can't FUCK with us

(Ghostface)
Pass me the black velvet embassy suite killin me
Spell it Maxi Priest caught me in the days up on Delancy Street
Stand solar, deadly vengeance with a crowbar
It's like the dreads worshipin Jah, so ha-lo-ha
Pineapple crushed 850 swerve it with a rush
Plush the Canola Range spittin off the roof, holdin my change
Yo it's ragtime, universal 12 Monkey mind
It's like, stalkin through your airport *BZZZZZZT* with a chunky nine

(Street Life)
The undervolt Staten New York
Blood sport gun talk holdin fort back, take em to court (Method: One time)
It's the burner Shaolin bound facedown you gets murdered
Roadblock shell shocked, stretched on a back block
Yo it's warfare when you ring here, slugs fly through midair
Landin thugs in wheelchairs from the slugfest
Keeps the iron, where the head rest, for the conquest
Subway, wordplay ricochet through your projects, crime pays
Matched up in a staircase, in a dark place embraced
by the trey-eight, I'm in so deep I can't escape
These crime situations, I stay in man formation
And shot echoes through the ghetto locations y'all remain
P.L.O., slam cats like Bam Bam, Bigolo
Throw a flow like Nomo relate like Fidel Castro
I be the great all pro, hangin MC's by they logos
My street journal reacts and blaze like an inferno

So get your egg crashed, by my Hellz Wind Staff
While the feature broadcast is splashed to tell the news
like Kaity Chung, how the bullet collapsed his lung
His father watched the horror as he swallowed his tongue
Another youth dead, before the age of twenty-one
Left his son to grow, in the ghettoes of the slums
With a shot that go, for twisted metal for cash flow
React slow nigga and get, P.L.O.
By the lone gunner, who took revenge for his brother
who got slain last summer by a cocaine runner
A new year is dawning, new crews is forming
Rival gangs warring blood steadily pouring
The streets are deep Son every day is like a rerun
So I reach out and try to teach one
But eighty-five percent uncivilized content
No tolerance so a lifetime is spent
behind a cage bent smoked out on a park bench
Killer instinct slave rap niggaz get lynched

*sounds of fighting*

Verse Two: Ghostface Killah

So yo break that nigga arm fast as a fuck
Tell Ra, Goldie left my beige jacket in his truck
To all you slow footed penguins, duckin from these
hot rocks that's flamin, chocolate for all you rap Damian's
Spraying cards ex-pionage, dodgeball square hard
Strip bars, no bras, wet leotards
and a mink in, next album blood on Seth Abram
Keep a Gambino PlayStation in your playpen
Discovery Channel, cats that book at Daniel
Coke blunts hot as a FUCK swatted bamboo
high school dropouts, baseheads get knocked the fuck out
on the regular for robbin a good nigga house
Rough cut raw doses, the unexplainable
Hot rock lava, gringo throw the flows iglasa

*sounds of fighting*

Verse Three: Inspectah Deck

Ha ha ha ha, yo
What you know about this, specialist armed dangerous
Hit you close range with this madness
Unique design shine like a deep dish
The beat kick technique split all your weak shit
Yes, the rhythm, the Rebel
Alone in my level heat it up past the boiling point of metal
Living legend, veteran known to set trend
Lethal weapon, step through your section
with the Force like Luke Skywalker
Rhyme author, orchestrate mind torture
Live performer, bit the mic sayanora
Borderline to insane, I rain firewater
Tape recorder, can't be saved by a court order
I got my sword cross your throat you joke

Verse Four: Method Man

We on the run with the golden guns, get you none
when it reach out and teach someone, blaze they buns
Now I'm guilty by association
Times of blackness eclipsin the sun, target practice
commence when I throw these darts at these rappers
Ricochet, hit the charts, bloody your matress
Hold me down, Wu bloodkin, I'm goin in
Shootin bullets at the top ten, rhyme concoction
blend like a million
All these niggaz want cheese, is we mice or men, word up
We can go platinum but then, still can't get no satisfaction
Once again, back on the block crumb snatchin
Blowin backs in cold
Blunted non-assassin, time for action, Johnny Unidas
Handle that like arthritis
Still, hold a golden touch like King Midas

*swords clash*

Verse Five: RZA

Drown in problems the Heineken's imported from Holland
Gettin boosted off a killer bee pollen, stone columns
get trapped by drum tracks mac loud as gun claps
Pen'll grab the death of a thousand dumb tacks
The Wu Sensai fold, it beez the Wind Ninja scroll
Soul edged blade controls your inner pole
The thick loop, fruit from the forbidden tree root
I stay secluded in the Chamber trainin new recruits
with Fatal Guillotine, the black hooded team what it means
when bullets scream from the hot glock like rock from a sling
("Sometimes...") Pushed through like George Bush Operation Whoops
Shots get popped on the block cause them blood to gush
From digital to analog, the Wu-Wear camoflogue
The entourage squad we stompin through Zanzibar
like herds of cattle, RZA plays the wall like a shadow
Connect the Book of Shaolin like the brothers I know Now Rule

Verse Six: Raekwon the Chef

Stash the cream though, Iceatollah ice style gleama
Lex graffiti name reamer, hold em we rollin
askin me though, raps is hotter than, hot tamales in Toledo
Pussy that shit she passin off to me though
We wax Ajax niggaz with a axe, Maxamill
You could crash a meal, got you back steel
scold em and fold em like the thousand dollar bills
sit back eyein y'all niggaz out
Fakes that delegate we spittin fire out
Verb burgular, design the Wally shoe store reserve
a jet status, guidin these vert up on my matress
Watch me mack this, Ralph Lauren goose inside a fashion
Yo, these hands is flooded and they mad quick
Strong approach like magnets, custom wood crane name
Stylin rich, RZA made the waves in one chain
Feelin mics like, wheelin a bike, slide like
step on his Klondike, get your dart right
We movin on it like, wind breaker niggaz get they face broke
Jury get snatched, magazine right on the low, fuck y'all cats

("Sometimes...")
*sounds of fighting*

"May you rot in hell!"
"Ahahahahah, ahahahahaha, ahahahahaha!"