#ARREST GUN JAM FAKE NOISES ARREST HOW TO#
Yeah, yeah Ayo, Black-it's time, word (Word, it's time, man) It's time, man (Aight, man, begin) Yeah-straight out the fuckin' dungeons of rap Where fake niggas don't make it back I don't know how to start this shit, yo-now Rappers I monkey flip 'em with the funky rhythm I be kickin', musician inflictin' composition Of pain, I'm like Scarface sniffin' cocaine Holdin' an M16, see, with the pen I'm extreme Now, bullet holes left in my peepholes I'm suited up with street clothes, hand me a 9 and I'll defeat foes Y'all know my steelo, with or without the airplay I keep some E&J, sittin' bent up in the stairway Or either on the corner bettin' Grants with the cee-lo champs Laughin' at base-heads, tryna sell some broken amps G-packs get off quick, forever niggas talk shit Reminiscin' about the last time the task force flipped Niggas be runnin' through the block shootin' Time to start the revolution, catch a body, head for Houston Once they caught us off-guard, the MAC-10 was in the grass, and I ran like a cheetah, with thoughts of an assassin Picked the MAC up, told brothers "Back up!" - the MAC spit Lead was hittin' niggas, one ran, I made him back-flip Heard a few chicks scream, my arm shook, couldn't look Gave another squeeze, heard it click, "Yo, my shit is stuck!" Tried to cock it, it wouldn't shoot, now I'm in danger Finally pulled it back and saw three bullets caught up in the chamber So, now I'm jettin' to the buildin' lobby And it was full of children, prob'ly couldn't see as high as I be (So, what you sayin'?) It's like the game ain't the same Got younger niggas pullin' the triggers, bringin' fame to their name And claim some corners, crews without guns are goners In broad daylight, stick-up kids, they run up on us.