Toney Sigel A.K.A. The Barrel Brothers lyrics

[Verse 1: Ghostface Killah]
Yo, straight out the ghetto, I'm damn hood
I stack a dollar like a whole rack of canned goods
Baggy jeans, no Timbs, ACG boots
Livin' in the crack spot, bangin' that Sheek Louch
The narcotics is far from garbage
Whether it's cold or it's late August
My sh*t is fresh cuz I catch the hottest
My little cousin bubble swatches and carry a couple oxes
Keep a deuce deuce by his ankle and get it poppin'
You know, we be the boys clockin' the graveyard shift
Big bubbles, countin' the cream, burnin' the lazar spliff
My man jumps out the whip with the AR 5th
And we barred from plenties of parties, 'cause we start sh*t
Parole holes, six months in the box
My little sister got her head shaved off
She made it home from shock
We sellin cartons, Pampers, Similac formula
Anything you take because the paper keep callin ya
Gangsters keep ballin fosho, we want more
We make it rain from the tech and the wop
The next coroner priests don't have enough cups for us
To slow us up, they hit us with dusk
Then they rush-bust, my man Big Ron will break the cuffs
300 pound n*gga, po-po has to f*ck him up
They say that my projects should undergo therapy
We never voted, we votin' for Oprah, Obama, and Eric B
[Verse 2: Solomon Childs]
Guns imported from Duval
Wheelchairs and sh*t bags
Peach Snapples and pretty scalpels, renaissance
I'll stick a pick in ya gut at the chapel
I'll blow a n*gga for a box of Huggies
Cop-killers with a box of dummies
Dummies, stuck to the project floors
n*ggas is suited up and we ready for war

[Verse 3: Beanie Sigel]
It's the Broad Street Bully and the Killah with no Face
My mac bullets burn like tequila with no chase, yeah!
My knife work like the guillotine sword, cutting n*ggas
Stop frontin' for my killa bee swarm, something
Empty out the whole clip and reload
Shotgun barrel leave it smoking like a broke stove
Yeah, and I'm all about that bullsh*t
The casket, the hearse, and the pastor in the pulpit
I kill a n*gga at the drop of a dime
Just imagine what I'd do for a quarter
Ain't no tellin what I'd do for a dollar
Pop a n*gga right in front of his mama
Son a n*gga right in front of his daughter
And I'm nothing like your father
You couldn't come from these nuts I got
And C. Baltimore sucked this c*ck
I know most of y'all wouldn't understand
Get it? Understand?
Yeah some n*ggas will and some n*ggas won't
Like some n*ggas kill and some n*ggas don't (uh-uh)
You's a fake-it-'til-you-make-it type of n*gga
I'm a straight-up-take-it type of n*gga
Pistol-whip-a-n*gga-'til-I-break-it type of n*gga
I'm hard on chumps, most of these dudes is fags
Put the guarder on pumps, push the broom up they ass
Or the knife like American me, American Sig' is Muslim
So I ain't feelin Bush overseas
I think with the wisdom of Malcolm, got the soul of a Panther
So by any means is the anthem
You gonna have to cut me out the track like cancer
I can't stop, won't stop
This how we do it from Philly to Shaolin