Slam Pit - Feat Cuban Link And Common Lyrics by Beatnuts, The

Slam Pit - Feat Cuban Link And Common Lyrics

    [cuban link]
    "i'm hard to kill, for real, nigga guard your grill" --> cuban link
    Yo, yo, yo flipmode is how this nigga roll
    Finger on the trigger low, quick to lick a shot for that bigger pot of gold
    Lock and load, my heavy metal rock and rolls
    If you gotta go you gotta go, that's part of the show
    My heart is cold like a nautica nailin niggaz like carpenters
    Stalkin the hardest squadrons, spark em from new york to arkansas
    Watchin the projects is how i got my logic
    Economics is pickin pockets then we split the profit
    The only shit i pop is what my glock spit
    Watch for the cops since we spark the chocolate
    Cause the blocks are hotter than the fuckin tropics
    In topless bars, college girls with no bras
    My whole squad got blow jobs smokin godfather cigars
    Live large like scarface, parlayin to far place
    No car chasin, she's watchin all the stars in space
    Safe and sound in my playground with my tre pound
    Got eighty rounds just in case clowns wanna play around
    I lay it down for them non-believers
    Them non-achievin niggaz that wanna be leaders but can never beat us
    Y'all better greet us if you ever see us (word up)
    Ts, beatnuts, double up, but grab your motherfuckin heaters

    Sample interlude
    --slammin mc's on cement--
    --the beats, the nuts--
    --got you froze like gun point--

    [juju]
    --it's the hard-little pistol packin--
    It's the control freak, leave you with a whole in your cheek
    Worst attitude in rap, ju stay in the streets
    I gotta eat, the only thing i'm playin is keeps
    Your beats cost a lotta money but they sound real cheap
    You sound weak, anemic, like you get no sleep
    Fuckin with me, you outta your mind? get outta your jeep
    Ya know i'm gonna beat you till the police come
    And tell niggaz who the fuck i got that roly from

    [psycho les]
    --psycho les--
    Yeah, ugh, what...jump out the rover and let you know its over
    And grab you with a crowbar and snap you in a coma
    Drug you with my music son, you'll never sober
    While your chicks on my --boing-- on a leather soafer
    Chillin there, iced out billionaire
    In war clothes blastin as i blast led through your versace wardrobe
    What! motherfuckers

    --slammin mc's on cement--
    Ugh

    [common]
    --common sense, common's tellin ya--
    Picture a king, with heater, holy book, and big rings
    Real nigga doin big things interpreting dreams
    Off the jim bean, ain't shit sweet for sixteens
    My gods got the block sewn to the inseam
    I'm on the other side, trying to get green
    So i fash and trash that ass at least a day
    Warrin with self i battle, the middle eastern way
    Bring heat like the months, that's east of may
    Casket in the road and saw a new school that knows the old
    This memory i hold the scroll, my flow is a road...less traveled
    You rock, but been through less gravel
    My mystique suggest battle and what have you
    Rip a nigga from new york to west coast, chicago
    Don't give a fuck where he from he'll get beat like a drum
    Till this rap goes numb, seekin the hot medusa from circulation
    I strangle this string music, and suffocate a drum
    Wanted to be a star till i seen i was the sun/son
    Got my weight up like pun
    Improvise to get ass, emphasize to get passed
    Fuck a mic check, i bring my flow in cash

    Talkin to fade

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