[Verse 1: MF DOOM]
You can't join 'em? Beat 'em
Villain teach you where to score some old concrete crumbs
Word is Gold Bond feets powder, corned thumbs
‘specially in the summer bless the drummer, warned ‘em
Tight your cleats, or else its right to the white meat
Some I bite to eat, others write the light bright heat
Despite threat regardless of the aspect, the shack, the burning holes through his black neck, fact check
No flicks, and he scam, thought alot with the quicks
Like the mini camcorder box, it’s a brick lick, classic
As we stalk the great outdoors
Only use the magic nowadays to talk them out they draw to them
Before he go there let me take it where it started from
Smart kid sold some snake spit to a 'tarded bum
Not without carding em’, Mr. Guardin'-em
Find me in the mid-90s Midnight Mauraden-em
Hard, they wanted no part of him
More rhymes and ways to get paid, and there’s a lot of 'em
Great minds see alike take a sneak peek
Peek one foot out and still leave deep
No frontin' if you ain’t go huntin' or southern, you definitely ain’t gon ‘run em
[Verse 2: Busta Rhymes]
In the streets is where you witness the worship happen in public
Where babies grow and turn into killers and and how they become it
They evolve as a result of not havin' food in the cupboard
Knowing that the shit they be doing is foul and grow to love it (Love it)
Where the shit is never staged, every presentation is live
Some'll bang and turn crip and probably start whipping a five
But every now and then you find the mind of a child that has triumphed
Unique characteristics and deals with a higher science
Aspiring to take over the world and really does it
All one-hundred ninety-six million nine-hundred forty thousand square miles of it
Damn it's strange how shit change
But when you look again, ironically some shit is still the same
But in these streets you'll probably find a nigga regularly dreaming
Paying attention to everything, regularly scheming
Trying to calculate the next hustle without attracting heat
There be so many different things that be going down
Where bodies get clapped floating in oceans
It's where the suffering can callous your emotion
But parents pray for their children, constantly hoping, that their babies don’t end up killed, in jail, or smoking
It's where you learn to make things out of nothing
Where people smoke crack instead of taking a Buffrin
Despite the Santa, the ratchet bussin' is common
With what we lived, to most other people it's foreign
[Hook: BJ the Chicago Kid]
The Streets
To be from the streets it’s a blessin', it’s a blessin'
It teach the most unforgettable lessons, yeah lessons
So a nigga from the streets, don’t test him, don’t test him
Where most niggas probably get killed
Even babies busy fighting over breast milk
The streets'll help you get your soul right
Hope them wolves don’t get ya standing in the street light
And if them wolves catch you night night
When your boxers in the dirt and eating Popeye’s
And don’t forget my hot sauce
Get your mind watching loot and get your life lost
[Verse 3: MF DOOM]
It’s like a jungle 24/7 365.44
I score gorilla war tour, yeah sure-sure
When push comes to shove
This well-done beef
But it’s still done love
[Verse 4: Busta Rhymes]
On more than likely a level of hate that you can’t imagine
Where desperate acts occur cause of hunger beyond famine
Where instead of friends your ratchet becomes your closest companion
And when it's beef your leave bodies with holes the size of canyons
[Verse 5: MF DOOM]
On her strength she wasn’t lent 3 cent
Got her own connect for free rent off the cement
Now what if that was your moms?
Short arm, quart of water to bottles of Don
Bought the farm
[Verse 6: Busta Rhymes]
Yo the streets consist abundantly of happiness and sorrow
It’s also where you lurk to secure your food for tomorrow
Where we take the shit ‘cause we ain’t paying it back if we borrow
Become the one that shine so the rest of the hood can follow
[Hook: BJ the Chicago Kid]
The Streets
To be from the streets it’s a blessin', it’s a blessin'
It teach the most unforgettable lessons, yeah lessons
So a nigga from the street, don’t test him, don’t test him
Where most niggas probably get killed
Even babies busy fighting over breast milk
The streets'll help you get your soul right
Hope them wolves don't get ya standing in the street light
And if them wolves catch you night night
When your boxers in the dirt and eating Popeye’s
And don’t forget my hot sauce
Get your mind watching loot and get your life lost
READ MORE ABOUT BUSTA RHYMES
