BULLET KLUB lyrics

by

Styles P


[Intro: Conway the Machine]
Yeah
You n*ggas know what's up, n*gga
Don't play stupid, n*gga
Yeah
Banks, what's up n*gga?
It's go time homie

[Verse 1: Conway the Machine]
Look, these n*ggas can't match what I create
Boy, I'm actually great
Homie, I used to stash cracks by the gate (aaahh)
The couple stacks I would make with the MAC on my waist
I could send a package upstate and have you stabbed in the face
Thought you was safe while behind the wall (huh)
You vagina soft (pus*y)
Have you poked inside the yard, then youngin slidin' off (haha..)
Before the Shady signin', I wore designer, y'all
Dog, I swear we cut from a different kind of cloth (facts)
I'm kinda off, wig shot, your brains fly across the street
When I fire off the heat, then I'm ridin' off
Goin' to get my di*k sucked inside a loft (haha..)
Put Scotty OG inside of my cigar (smokin')
Don't call my phone if you ain't tryin' to buy it all, I'm the God
Keep it a 1000, I inspire y'all (HAHAHHH..)
I provided y'all with classics, dropped the hardest tape since '94
But I started out supplyin' raw
Okay, I get it, my face is twisted
But considerin' my facial image, what n*gga spit it the way I spit it?
Think about it, I'll wait a minute... (haha)
I had to give you time to think of a name
'Cause it might take a minute
When I dropped Reject 2, I made a statement with it
n*ggas talk tough, I prop up, to see what's shakin' with it
Let the Beretta knock the letters off your Lakers fitted
Toss bullets, I'm Troy Aikman with it when he played with Emmitt
Admit it, I'm one of the greatest with it, huh
I raise the bar, flick the razor leave your face with scars
Break in your place and all that money in your safe is ours
You rap n*ggas ain't safe at all
My youngin takin' n*ggas chains at the awards
And then we skatin' off
Empty the sticks like 50 shots is sprayin' off
Kill 'em, double back, hit 'em again, we makin' sure, uh
[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]
Uh, you know where the f*ck we from, n*gga
Sound like a murder one.. (pap pap..)
It's the real n*ggas year
Blood, sweat, tears and bullet flares

[Verse 2: Lloyd Banks]
Figured I hit the top with those I seen the bottom with
Wrong!
They switched, my circle so small I'm standin' out of it (damn)
Episodes of a giant, hand me my monument
Steal off the table bet he won't have a family to count it with (nah)
Fake ass n*gga, sign your baby a counterfeit
Limbs knocked off your counterparts
We're known for breakin' mama hearts (uhh)
Ran out of patience debatin', die for the fast flip
Cruisin, collectin' Confederate flags to wipe my ass with (n*gga)
Had to be killin' sh*t, I'm hearin' ghosts
Seein' my folks disappearin' my feelings broke (uhh)
Being successful will bring 'em to tears faster
Keep your.. threats off the wire, buggin' out's my Fear Factor
Uh.. 30 rounds for your square rapper
The hand of God off the vertical, rear'll smack ya (uhh)
Shot at me but I never felt a thing, my diamonds freezin'
Hate allergic, Valentino handkerchief for sneezin' (yeah)
Drippin' with passion, I overdosed twice
Aced all obstacles, I ain't run from sh*t but the po'-lice
Hunger balance cold nights
Life's a gamble, be damned I don't throw dice
I'm ten toes spike, high as my show price (uhh)
I bet a semi rise'll clear out all the petty vibes
It bark like a Shepherd, bite like Pennywise (uhh)
Them cruel beginnings of grim chronic and Henny eyes
Ghoul vomit and envy cries for cowards in disguise
I pull your card, make 'em look at you awkward after
Run around on my Gorilla sh*t, sh*ttin' and toss it at ya
I was meant to be on in this era to off a master
Lash your back with your own whip
Followed by stronger laughter (yeah)
Look in my eyes and see the struggle of success
The memories of a hundred real n*ggas here in the flesh
From the view off the mountain top I was mesmerized
Medicine for maniacs, chain-reacts and the ghetto fried
[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]
Uh, you know where the f*ck we from, n*gga
Sound like a murder one
It's the real n*ggas year
Blood, sweat, tears and bullet flares

[Verse 3: Benny the Butcher]
Yo, in my town we got foul habits, .40 cal packers
Hustlers plow cash and trap in a wild fashion
Til agents chase us around backwards
They know our faces, but to them, we just cases in a file cabinet
I'm Louie'd down in that brown fabric, this watch I bought to drown sadness
Blame my childhood for how I'm actin'
And leave the counter then we brown baggin'
The dollar amount stackin', I can see them numbers
Hustlers count backwards
I'm somewhat comfy in the bar section, not 'cause I'm rich
'Cause I'm certified, I'm nothin' like these cross dressers
I can't believe where the flow got us
I kept the whole profit, got a plan with Roc like the Globetrotters
We straighten beef out and fold dollars
But I'm still humble from the days
We ate the bread with the mold 'round it
And this a feeling you will never feel, the flow impressive still
And I perform better when the pressure build
Single mothers readin' hustlers, stretchin' meals
She fed us with the cash for the electric bill (woo!)
I'm too eclectic, mouth reckless still
I hit the hood just to chill, like the old days, catch a feel
You see, this paper could change a n*gga demeanor (seen it)
I seen it take dreamers and make 'em into believers (uh huh)
Had you sippin' Ace pullin' up like Ace in the Beamer
But first you gotta relate to that Ace in the cleaners, AH!
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