[Intro: Barron Ricks]
Yeah
Yo (Yeah), for all my Harlem breaded brown motherfuckers
For my niggas from the motherfuckin' Hill (Easy [?], easy)
On the Hill all around, it's them big niggas
[Verse 1: Barron Ricks]
Fluorescent words flash signs in your mind, rhymes I find
Combined with fly shit, sun enlights the blind
Hold fort, rock a court when the sons change quick
Concepts get flipped, more complex for hits
My street slangs dangle mic cords and strangle in the quarters
It's not a Ford Expedition, Land Cruiser pole position
Strike first, we never ask questions, intuition
When guns bust, you duck to see who's spittin', buggin' in broad daylight
It's Harlem where we drive live niggas' connects
We get right, dime bags for the flight
Participatin' in this game of life with all cards dealt
Pokerface, ready to gamble my fate away
It's on the line son, to get mines, son, double-up, son
The hard way, son, fate of man, son, I'm out, son
[Chorus: Barron Ricks]
We blow the spot, make it hot if you bob a lot
Rockin' charts, cock Glocks, take over you blocks
Stash weed from cops, when we bust you drop
Pop the top, take shots, smash out and you drop
(Drop, come on, come on,, come on, now come one)
[Verse 2: B-Real]
Dumb kids gone bad, mad 'cause they never had
No money up in the pockets, no chance to make the cash
I remember the days hustlin' to make loot fast
The past never leaves me, can't afford to be greedy
You'll never last, the treaty will pass if people clash
Killin' each other over the money, bloodbath
The path, get the riches from rags, it's toe-tags
And body bags, spinnin' the wheels, rollin' the Jag'
In the late night, Hollywood swingin', freakin' the shows
In the House of Blues, flexin' my crew, rollin' the dough
Sold the [?], I'm like the buddah tree that grows
All the way up to the Heavens with seven days to go
The Hill represents the climb you take on
When you're sittin' on top, you gotta try and stay on
Drugs, haters and evil bitches bring you down
When you on the road from rags to riches, you get clowned
[Chorus: Barron Ricks]
We blow the spot, make it hot if you bob a lot
Rockin' charts, cock Glocks, take over you blocks
Stash weed from cops, when we bust you drop
Pop the top, take shots, smash out and you drop
(Drop, come on)
[Verse 3: Chace Infinite]
Put it in motion, I make thunderclaps with raps
My sound sonic, penetrate the ground, fill in the cracks
From the land where niggas roll [?]
Sell crack and murder is a everyday act
I'm in the black Jeep blunted out, sunk in the back
Writin' raps, the tracks to spread across the map
Connect does the sport with the solo [?] Harlem, New York
From Palm Trees to Polo Ground Courts
Truly yours, native Angelino
Los scandalous, Los Angeles, the root of evil
[?] mob killin' people, niggas emulate the latest mob movie sequel
It's a everyday struggle for some but some lounge in the lab
Make it out and swear to God that they never come back
Regardless of the fact, most niggas return
Playin' the flames and eventually one day get burned
Two ways to learn, I wouldn't chose the latter
Bullets penetrate throug your rib, shatter your bladder
Chase from the dutch, roll like a Viper with no clutch
Never pay for lust, make money, work for us
[Chorus: Barron Ricks]
We blow the spot, make it hot, make you bob a lot
Rockin' charts, cock Glocks, take over you blocks
Stash weed from cops, when we bust you drop
Pop the top, take shots, smash out and you drop, nigga
(Drop, come on, now come on)
[Outro]
Come on, now come on
Drop
Come on, now come on
Drop
Come on, now come on
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