Evolution 3000 (Main Version) lyrics

[The Madd Rapper Intro]
Roll another blunt man, Cuz sh*t I gotta get high
That's the key to my sh*t, I get high
Ya mean

[Tracey Lee Intro]
Yo I don't know what they thought, I don't know what the f*ck they thought
I don't know who told them this sh*t was over
It's never over man
This Tray Lee muthaf*cka
I represent Philly, I brings the heat, 3000 sh*t
For my dogs who grow hard in Bogard
That be in the muthaf*ckin' streets

[The Madd Rapper]
If you wasn't on my di*k from day one, then screw ya'll
My rhymes are lyrically designed to blow through ya'll
Chest piece, Through your Lex piece, I knew ya'll
Fold when the full court pressure step to ya'll, do ya'll
Do what I gotta do to get a dollar, I ride on the train snatch
A chain off your collar, Ask wife, for 600 I can borrow
Cause * Someone's Name * gonna throw me out tommorow
Yep I'm still broke, I still choke
And even though I ain't puttin' in no doe, I still smoke
Still tote, Spittin' out these bars I wrote
I'm not tryin' to get ? ? ?, Wit gats in the bizack
Bags of the Crizack, Dimes and Nicks
On the streets bitin' leather, Keep 'em high till six
Got pies to flip, and wise guys to clip
And in a minute or ??sixenit??, you might see me flip
[Tracey Lee]
A-yo, The Tray Lee, Is you thirsty
Let's guzzle these mc's, Put the muzzle on dem n*ggas mouths
And breeze, They all talk to much sh*t
Walk the walk like di*ks, f*ck strictly Bum chicks
That's why I no them n*ggas crabbed out
Inchin' En on all these n*ggas assed out
And when we get 'em, We let the rhythym hit 'em
Black oozy slipt 'em, Kinda f*cked up how we did 'em
Big dog bit 'em, If would have been on P he would have seen it comin'
Instead he had his eyes on me, and I'm gunnin'
For all n*ggas who bite the bullet, If you bite the first one you might
Bite the worst one, It'll hurt some
Straightened Aim, this n*gga straight frontin'
BK brawlin' in the street n*gga who want it
What, We storm through blocks wit kicks, Violate 'em
We stomp n*ggas and then we stomp jakes (cops)

[Black Rob]
What the f*ck is the haps, Here we go again, Bussin' caps
Get down, for sweet thugs, and my n*ggas who push crack
Who be in the back, Loadin' they macks, Hit the surface
It's on now, when I attack it's with a purpose
My soldiers, Trained by dreams, the street seems
My n*ggas that know, how to be handlin' these fiends
Come in between, me and this green, I doubt that
Sixteen through your jeans, now fagat how about that
Ya'll ain't ready for war, Ya'll just playin' a part
I rip apart with guns that be state if the art
Play it smart, and you'll get a b*tch, like 99
I never hide, If you cowards can't find me fine
I been rolin' with these punishers since n*ggas been schemin'
On free lunches, Now I push up and do crunches
Won't stop squeezin' this trigger, Till ya'll arrest
Damn right, you f*ckin' wit black, It's more or less
[Tracey Lee]
I crack jaws, lyricly slap ya'll, in figure fours
The over Lord, I'm nice, Name your price
Wit mics, Break n*ggas like dice, Tray da Great One
One of these half-ass n*ggas, son this ain't one
But, How they gon act, My style they study it
MC's be like Shaq and 'em, Still not ready yet
Many have tried, But f*ckin' wit Tray
It all can cause n*ggas decay
Spit it for them street n*ggas, Dice rollin' dogs
Who mix liquor
n*ggas who feel no pain, This rap sh*t
Tray got covered like rogaine, Can't wait to get one of ya'll on stage
That's my domain
Went from no name, to Cats knowing my whole name
Controllin' the whole game
The whole aim, Spittin' sh*t ill, It's like cocaine
R and F, Better run for cover, Cuz you dealin' with a real
Killadelph Muthaf*cka like that

[Buckshot]
? ? ? ? ? MC's, No the time like Seiko
Spittin' dialect, dirtier, than a freak ho
I Buck, role wit my n*gga Lito
And we snatch goods like the repo
Clips in my skully, 44s in the Peko
Pull it out, make you deep throat, Then we let the heat go
So what, never in your life try to play me
Play my seven six n*ggas, Or play Tray Lee
My ice-real monsters, Intimidate ya'll
n*ggas ain't playaz so I guess I'll just hate ya'll
Better recognize my clique, and where my name is
Got your wife, on my di*k like my chain is
Take her to the Tele, Then I, f*ck her brainless
Cats say that, They can talk to the stainless
Spit the razor, Leave a smile where your beard at
Viva R, and F, Ya'll n*ggas better fear that
[Kurupt]
Hoes eat di*ks and that's all they do
I'm jus a gangsta ass n*gga in grey and blue
When the flow bounces, n*gga we blaze ounces
Whoa n*gga
My woman makes more money than most of ya'll n*ggas
High post, high class, high to the sky
Kurupt and Daz
Two hits and pass, Two steps and blast
Is that right, on the Rooftop at night
Wit a scole, Bout to blast everything in sight
f*ck whatcha Thought, f*ck whatcha like
Despite whatcha thought, And whatcha thinkin' like
Show me whatcha got and I'ma take the sh*t
I'ma shoot a muthaf*cka and I'ma slap a b*tch
You must have lost your Mutherf*ckin' mind
Sucker punched a n*gga in his muthaf*ckin' ? ? ?
Dip made the dash for the muthaf*ckin' doe
f*ck everything I see and everything I saw
Guzzlin' gallons of Henesy on the rocks
In the clubs wit my dogs, Thugs, 38 slugs, Persian Rugs
Pistols launch off like missles
Sherms, curls and perms, b*tches ain't sh*t, f*ck them hoes and tricks
I take the money out of her hand and backslap the b*tch
And some of these n*ggas is b*tches too
And the same motherf*ckin' thing will happen to you
But b*tch n*gga, Whatchu thought this was a mutherf*ckin' game
You must not have heard about my motherf*ckin' name
Kurupt(echoed), Young Gotti(Echoed)
DPG f*ckin' up the party

[Tracey Lee Outro]
Yeah In 9-9 That's how we get down
Dead ass this time around
Tray Lee, Fever, Black Rob, Kurupt, What the f*ck
You ain't sh*t, Your crew ain't sh*t
R&F to def, Philly in here, You know how it is