Hurt 'Em

[Intro: Haxaw]

Yeah, yeah, aiyo, Chapel, man

I told you man, we gon' hurt 'em, man

Haxaw, 7 O.D., Up the Block Entertainment

Ja-mal, let's go... bond official, yeah

Come on...

[Haxaw]

What the fuck you looking at? Bitch ass niggas

Screwing your face up bad, Staten Island right here, nigga

Put a bullet in your right ear, nigga

You want a problem, it's your lucky day, I'm right here, nigga

Capital H, a lover or hate, huddle your eights

Crushing like grapes, they feathers to me, dusting like drapes

When it, come to these papes, me and mine, we gon' get that

Click clack, black semi autos where you ribs at, now

Show me where the shits at, yeah, usual

My dogs gotta eat, I ain't talking bout oop and ooh

I get food for crew, my gun games beautiful

Do the dew, endanger who, and don't lose a clue

For the pick-up, or the dogs'll sniff up

Call a bitch up, let her know I want a dick suck

And it's me, so 9 times out of 10, she with it

I don't just talk, I live it, lord forgive this

[Chapel]

Yo, I spit rhymes high, I smash your dumb baskets

Pardon me God, these shine thugs ratch

Zip you up around shot, we know you chilling with your ratchets

I'mma tell you right now with all the facts

We veterans, you're amateurs boy, get to practice

Definite your squad, time to size to what's on crack

This is hoe shit, my word up, yo, I'm the captain

Organized clan, spit danger crazy actions

Sparks out my mouth, thug rhymes like car attraction

It's fighting in the rap world, living out my passion

Destroying M.C.'s, in a Polo Russian fashion

Dodging from the plain close, starving past flashes

Try and take us down like a bunch of plane crashes

Hide yourself quick when the guns come passing

Dutch got me seeing the world, in higher graphics

Haxaw, Trom, and Crunch, we fantastic

[Trom]

Yo, I keep the forty auti, with the beam on the top, with me

Breeze off in the Benz, zero sixty, and too quickly

When I'm tipsy, I'm too shifty, especially when I got a

Couple of goons and them tools with me, you wilding out

Run official, I show you what Staten Island about

Run up in your house, throw the gun in your spouse

Get the money out the wall, and the bricks out the coach, quick

Hog tie the witness, throw the gag in his mouth

Definetly match the hats, it's the dad who out the back door

Hopped in the V, yo Chap, push the pedal to the floor

Where we headed? Back to Stat, quick, jump on the Van Wyck

While I roll the L and celebrate, we caught an ill vick'

Spark the la, peep the dicks in the side view

Just switch to the right lane, and cats can past through

Dip in and out of traffic, I stash the bricks in the ratchet

Chase adrenaline rush, I gotta have it

[Crunch Lo]

I grab mics like a handle on the big revolver

Break bread at the table, with Capos and Godfathers

Crunch Lo, nigga, this is certified illy

Them words out the mouth can get you smacked silly

I'mma beast with the vocab, you soft as a baby ass

Attract to the mass and niggas whose ghetto fab

Trash talk studio thugs, sucker for love

Get a buck and some change across your pretty mug

Or we can, jump around and hopskotch and box

After you get dropped, my dudes throwing them shots

And we gon' hit something, hard body, from the body

West Brighton niggas is known to crash the party

So Beneen, so we scream to justify the means

The work is hard white, the smoke is light green

Fifty eight for the fiends, the gin to rape this queen

We hit moving targets, cuz we got inf' beams