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Eric Bibb - Verses lyrics

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Verses by Eric Bibb

(Featuring La The Darkman, Ras Kass & Scaramanga Shallah)
[Intro: Ras Kass (Scaramanga Allah)]
Yeah (yeah) yeah (Sham's nine times ultra)
Wu-Tang (herbs three times great, you heard of me)
Nigga, L.A.D. (six times ill)
Rest in peace O.D.B. (La the Dark, Sun large)
GZA, Ras Kass, yeah (what's up, Wu-Universal)
[Scaramanga Shallah]
Now it's the real beginning of the pages of Shams
Spit that heat rock, that make fiends make vapors of grams
Sham's is the Raiders fan, rock big tables at Sands
Bally's and Trump's, I got the mack ten
We can hit the alley with iron and thumper
Take it to the hands like the brand new linen
Niggaz goin' no mas, when the bullets go in him
You dealing with a night stick choker
The ice pick poker, trust, you ain't like this joker
And the set, devoted to opening your neck
With the tech, as you sit in a Lex'
Your next move, is slipping, your last move is shitting
As your body gets soft, the shotty went off
Little soldiers, you're out of position
Guns go off, Shams is a Raiders fan
A rob and gather reporter, columns are lost
White five, black five, with dollars to toss
Twisted by the dark side of the force
Black biscuit, by park side in a Porsche
You're off sides in the fort
We are survivors of the war of good and evil
I'm in the hood, in the hood with a desert eagle
With my Brooklyn peoples, now feel it...
[La the Darkman]
Darkman, my persona's like Tony Montana
How he used to sniff coke, how I puff marijuana
Try, play me today, I'mma kill you manana
From, far with the K, or up close with the llama
I'm like an African king in a castle in Ghana
Chest dripping with jewels, one hell of a rhymer
Study lessons in Medina, building with an old timer
So I, always been wise ever since a young minor
Get CREAM by any means, follow Malcolm X theme
So I'm often posted, in a window with that thing
Got unlimited support from the Sing Sing regime
I'm Hannibal Smith and they like the A-Team
Keep my head on the swivel, when I serve a dope fiend
Upgraded, to a digital, from a triple beam
Fucking with me, you better be real as you can be
La Trapacanti, a well known rhyme general
[Ras Kass]
Whoever say Ras Kass don't spit fire, he a liar
That's like your favorite rap star claiming he gon' retire
When you mention me, not about penitentiary
Rims and rhyme skills, both twenty second century
Ahead of my time, school niggaz like Timbuktu
'Cause I'm original, like blacks for larger jewels
Velour's by BUFU, Buy Us Fuck U
Try Us Fuck U. You die. Y'all got gats but him buck too, nigga
Sip Grey Goose and ponder. They know the room service
In Hotel Rwanda. reminder to honor these street scholars
Who ask why U.S. Defense is twenty percent of the tax dollar
Bush gave 6.46 billion to Haliburton
For troops support efforts in Iraq
Meanwhile, the hood is hurting, please believe that
The rape over, Cheney charging 45 dollars for a case of soda
Draining tax payers, eighty five thousand dollar oil filters (damn! )
But won't pay they soldiers, Haliburton workers make
Fourteen thousand dollars a month, privates earn thirteen g's a year
Plus a 25 extra taking fire in combat
Recruit all the niggaz, that die from where I'm at
18 years old, talking 'Kill, where Saddam at?'
But can't have a gat, to protect where my moms at
I love to crunk, so what. plus I'm gangsta enough
To piss in pimpin kids pimp cup. rack again and pump it up
How bitches still get fucked, niggaz just want a forty and a blunt
Yo, these youngsters they grow up on the block
With the product in they socks, and the fully loaded glocks
Too many die in vain, and it's a crying shame
The murders and the hustles, won't stop as they shoot for the top
Acquiring apparel, through growth and development
On they most dangerous missions, excuses were irrelevant
The brutality of war, never changes
And the out of control desire to win, makes it dangerous
Fire engulfed the set, they feel the threat, greater than
What they ever had, experienced yet
Indictments, sparked excitement, and the thrill to kill
Suddenly they felt the need for a challenge in they field
The great boundaries of both man and machine
Can have one at the point, to murder all in between
Yellow tape scene, dead teen, the mob was his idol
Giving a grim new meaning to the neighborhood's title, what's up?

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