[Intro: Foxy Brown & Shyne]
Gyeah
Gyeah, walk with me
Gyeah, It's like New York's been soft
Ever since my nigga Shyne been sittin' in prison
Yeah
[Verse 1: Shyne]
Check it, sick things, sick rings, this shit is sickening
Sick chains sick aim, 5th bang 5th frame
Bail money lawyers actin' funny when I come through
Hit 'em with a bundle on the humble
Couple notes, seen Boy George with a Rolls
Shit, I want one too
What the fuck I'm gon' do
But get it if it's there to be gotten 'til I'm dried and rotten
And I'm rockin' sideways muthafucka crime pays
I need it, I'll get it, I got it, I'll chop it, I'll double the profit
And bubble the pockets, I'm living to die
Niggas talk fly 'til I walk by and pop somethin'
Muthafuckas forgot somethin', I'm not frontin'
This ain't rap, music this ain't that
You fuck around I'll have you sleepin' where the saints at
Sincerely yours Shyne muthafuckin' Po
Bitch get yo' bags hit the muthafuckin' do'
[Chorus: Shyne]
May the angels walk with me, more or less
Big things, big rims nigga, more or less
Fuckin' big stars in big cars, more or less
I can say I seen it all and done it all, more or less
[Verse 2: Shyne]
A G is a G, a ki is a ki, a snitch is a fish (as in kilo)
With no fins that can't swim when I dump him in the river
Charcoal gray R, 12 cylinders bulletproof sentences
Trial day tentative
I sound like who? ya'll sound like trash
Get off my dick and pass my cash
They don't do it cause I rap about it
I rap about it cause they do it
My music's the conduit to a ticket, I live it
Bitch nigga, I cook it and pitch it
Wipe the prints up off the shit and ditch it, uh
Hip-Hop ain't responsible for violence in America
America's responsible for violence America
Back to the flow nose full of blow
Rolls full of hoes, leave a nigga clothes full of holes
The schools didn't want me so the drug dealers taught me
Simple math, step on it twice and bring it back
Get 4 times what you paid, divide the labor costs
And still come away with enough to play
And I see the same shit in niggas younger than me
Runnin' the streets lookin for somethin' to eat
[Chorus: Shyne]
May the angels walk with me, more or less
Big things, big rims nigga, more or less
Fuckin' big stars in big cars, more or less
I can say I seen it all and done it all, more or less
[Verse 3: Shyne]
Ole boy betta get down better run for cover
When I spit rounds ah you in some shit now
Get found slit down to the white meat
I'm from Brooklyn, Vietnam nigga, I like beef
But being a bird in the street, double plight
Livin' a troubled life, father was a jerk
Moms had to work, papi had the works
So I did what any real nigga would do
Got in front the stove, now I got this shit sold
Fuck you punk niggas wit' yo' punk cash
Let the pump blast, put yo punk ass in the trunk fast
The fuck y'all thought
I bury niggas in walls, I'mma trill muthafucka after all
Point blank shootin niggas point blank all the way to the bank
Rip yo face off then I take off
The difference between me and them, you won't be seein' them
No more, nigga, secrets of war
[Chorus: Shyne]
May the angels walk with me, more or less
Big things, big rims nigga, more or less
Fuckin' big stars in big cars, more or less
I can say I seen it all and done it all, more or lesse
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