N.Y. Sleezy lyrics

Yeah, you who it is
40 OZ (yeah, yeah), UGP (yeah, get the f*ck back), Nicks (yeah), Pot Bull (yeah, that's right)

Chorus:

Don't think that you can see we (let's go)
UGP oh so crazy (why)
We from the N.Y. Sleezy (get 'em up)
It's kind of funny how we make it so easy

[Verse 1 - Nickles:]

Yo, I f*ckin' bang to like heavy metal, visions on another level
Thoughts of a raging devil, scorch like a blazin' ghetto
It's Nickle-Bags, and I'mma tell you this one time
I'll loose my f*ckin' mind like them kids in Columbine
To that, I hope you feel where I'm comin' from
Treating certified, you mothaf*ckas is bubble-gum
I'm a son of a gun, the father of swag
The master of disaster while I'm swingin' my flag
Yo I picture the swarm <--(?), we black hearted with guns
We got to wild the f*ck out like the kids in the ??
Mentally torn, born from the drama and blues
The karma indues <--(?), the way the f*ckin' lama it fools
So pardon me dude, matter fact get out my way
Verbally spray, like twin tecs right in your face
I'm ruling your space, like "why, what the f*ck you gon' do"
f*ck the law, yo we sell crack, Pot Bull who rules <--(?), why
[Chorus]

[Verse 2 - Pot Bull:]

Yo, we at war mothaf*ckas, better guard the grill y'all
I'm hard like a lion, yo you're soft like a b*tch dog (b*tch)
And how long you think your fame gon' last
When I erase your myspace and delete all your fans (mothaf*cka)
I told you, I'm not f*ckin' around (no)
I'm at your house with you ductaped, my sock in your mouth
I'm underground, and I don't need no air to breathe
Just give me weed, get you ??? thru an I.V
It's likely that my whole team will spit
You want guns, we got this lyrical full clip (clack, clack)
f*ck the bullsh*t, I'mma let you know from the get-go (gideup)
I'm mental, I'll burn your ass like Petro
Your menstral, that I'll fist fight with f*ckin' fags
I walk with my army similar to the Sons of Man
Understand, I can do this all day long
My technique's immortal <--(?), smash this sh*t like ping-pong

[Chorus]

[Verse 3 - Diabolic:]

Yo, N.Y. - M.I.C. checkin' street legend
Three seconds, and you're stuck to my pipe like weed resin (yeah)
So keep steppin', or handle the pressure of someone scannin' your retna on an ambulance stretcher (b*tch)
Will spark the lead, 'till you're scarred or dead
If you brought the feds, or talk to pigs like Charlotte's Web
Y'all are soft, don't set Bolic off
Or he'll toss molataufs, and cause nuclear holocaust
So have a c*cktail, while I polish off a shot
Brush my shoulders off and watch you burn from across the block (haha)
Go call the cops, and make sure they got the jaws of life to claw your wife off my c*ck ('f*ck outta here)
Nicks brought the Glock, Pot's robbin' your household
And I'm knockin' you out cold, like cops in the South Pole (blah)
Blodging a mouthful of c*ck in your hole
When Diabolic, El Nicks, and Pot go to war mothaf*cka
[Chorus]