My Black Nina lyrics

[Intro: RZA (ShaCronz)]
Peace to the God, what up, what up?
ShaCronz, Free Murda, what's the word-word, son? (What up Bobby?)
Ain't nothing, just living, son (looking good baby)
But you know how we do it, you know what i mean (what you got on right there, baby?)
Oh, on the feet, son? You know I got the ill Wu-Wear Slaps on my feet, son
(Nobody got those... what's those son?) Yeah, I got the Roc-A-Wear sweats
Popping right here, thunn
Know what i mean (Hold up, son, what the f*ck is that.. yo what's that bulging out
Your jacket, son?)

[Hook: Free Murda (Run-DMC sample)]
My, black, ninas, bust through project doors
Fake suspect 85's, on the floor
Cops yell 'raid', I wasn't afraid
And I won't stop busting, til I get paid
Black ninas...
("My, A..." *scratched up*)

[ShaCronz]
Everyday I live this thug sh*t, surrounded by plus whips
Sitting on dubs, b*tch, I run with a rough click
Dare one of ya'll to say something about my team
I know you fake gangstas out your lean
Shoot through your heart, choke you up, then rip out your spleen
If there's a drought in New York, I'm down south with fiends
Cash Rule Everything, so give it up, pa
Stash, jewels, everything, we glittered up, pa
Rocking your sh*t, popping your b*tch
Send fire, raise an empire, copping more bricks
From a place where the chicks holding, ride or die
Walk with a switch, hips swollen, pitch coke and crack
Get money, til I die, hit honeys til I fry
Grew up grungy, hungry til I ride
Apply pressure, time's short, need this project cake
Lean on 'em, like project gates
[Hook]

[Free Murda]
C.C.F., yo the whole hood on some sh*t, n*ggas is sheisty
Can't explain how them faggots in the P's, might be
All stick each other, like teens holding tightly
Try and light me, be the last n*gga you might see
Your wifey, grieving in the morgue, that like me
I splash you, have your gash, look like the swoosh from Nike
f*cking freaking bodies in the process, get you clapped by my set
Ya'll n*ggas doggin' Free, you gon' die wet
Chicks in the P's hoeing, them b*tches stay blowing
Them b*tches stay boning, my guns stay toting
Stick n*ggas that be holding, when I clap ya'll folding
Leave foods in the streets, soaking
K-Tone in my crib, loading
Brown flag on my wrist rolling, head shots til ya'll open
Up like a store in the morning
Have you laying dead in the train station like a rodent

[Hook]