Featuring aftamath, point blank
Back in '87 started slanging in the hood
Sworn to the clique, now i'm in it for good
Me and dope, brothas hustling all the time
Steve getting his, big rob, i'm getting mine
Fools outta line, heard a blast from a steel
Triggers slapping fools and popping devils in the dome
3, 5, 4, here it comes, here it comes
I'm coming outta trunk to pull a gat on you, son
Managed to 27 and my life is still the same
Father to an offspring, dodging them coke friends
Spent 3 months in a place like sing-sing
Now i'm hitting top, jacking fake cops
That's the reason why, you know, them devils still drop
La cosa nostra, a mafioso
I'm riding at night, fool, for sleep behind a low
Devils run too, we get popped
Dodies still drop...
Bodies still drop, they drop, they drop...
Bodies still drop, they drop, they drop...
Bodies still drop, they drop, they drop...
Bodies still drop, they drop, they drop...
Cause, you see, bodies in the ground
Brothas still slaves...
Black on black crimes, we digging our own graves...
Cause, you see, bodies in the ground
Brothas still slaves...
Black on black crimes, we digging our own graves...
Yeah, fool, i'm back again committing a sin with the pen
Full of that gin and juice, uuuh, and that's on the fen
Bought none in 9-trizey
So say what ya mean, fool, and mean what you say
Dissing my hood could be tragic
So keep south park out your mouth, i ain't having it
Yeah, i'm from middle north and in north they don't play
You get your ass knocked off
For wearing your hat the wrong way
Point blank is in the house so give me my props
Before i start blowing tops with glocks
Punks take my name and put a '10' in front of it
They bittidy bittidy bit diss me
But i ain't supposed to say that
But on the real, take notes what i'm saying, gee
On the streets you can't take my props away from me
So when you not on a radio from 6 to 10
I put some working on your ass and that's on the fen
Cause talking crap for 4 hours is not a carieer
Like jimmy o you be burning down clubs next year
So when it all hit the fan you go waxed off
Step in to my hood and get packed off
Bodies still drop...
Bodies still drop, they drop, they drop...
Bodies still drop, they drop, they drop...
Bodies still drop, they drop, they drop...
Bodies still drop, they drop, they drop...
Cause, you see, bodies in the ground
Brothas still slaves...
Black on black crimes, we digging our own graves...
Cause, you see, bodies in the ground
Brothas still slaves...
Black on black crimes, we digging our own graves...
The south park streets, that's where the dope-e be dwelling
So i let my nuts hang, peep the story that i'm telling
The rap game is just like the dope game
I show no pain and the darkside i blame
Flames heat up from my heater, main
Oooh ueee, i'm trying to show you that i'm a real main
So don't test me cause i already know the answers
Suckers couldn't rap, maybe they can be my dancers
Anything goes and it goes where i'm from
I never feel sorry for you fools coming to get some
Get some, meaning yours is not mine cause mine is mine
I'm packing a 9 and i ain't blind
And you try to understand these street rhymes battles
Slipping into quick diss
Step into the war zone, it's on, there ain't no neutral zone
Stand your own and cover your dome, prone...
But not to bad dreams, evil like steam and it seems...
You wanna try the double team
Get in your car, think again, take a long ride
Avoid the homicide, don't come to park side...
Bodies still drop, they drop, they drop...
Bodies still drop, they drop, they drop...
Bodies still drop, they drop, they drop...
Bodies still drop, they drop, they drop...
Cause, you see, bodies in the ground
Brothas still slaves...
Black on black crimes, we digging our own graves...
Cause, you see, bodies in the ground
Brothas still slaves...
Black on black crimes, we digging our own graves...