Cloud 9

[Kristina Green:]

If I could pack 'em out I'll lock down every house

From L.A. to Chicago

Roll 'em in a blunt I'll let 'em hit it once and they'd be dead

If I could lock 'em up I'd use so much cut that when they fry 'em half they profit is gon'

Cause the shit's so damn wrong, they still gon' call

Tryna get back on, and oooohhhh the sensation when he places his arms around me

I'm higher then I could ever be

[Hell Razah:]

Body bags in the back of the Ave

They keep jacking our swag

Rubber grip on the .44 mag

We write rhymes in a scientist's lab

With a pen and a pad

So our chemistry is murderous gas

I got the underground now in a smash

It's stack digital cash

And rip commercialized niggas in half

Put a slash in his 360

He can't eat with me, unless you come thru the G-60

[60 Second Assassin:]

They gotta

We gon' be what we gonna be

Money, clothes and ho's

We don't care about responsibilities

Love, sex and welfare checks

We gon' be what we gonna be

Gangsters, hustlers and a whole buncha murders for flavors

You're a million miles from 120 degrees, 120 degrees

Nobody's smiling

Cloud 9

[Son One:]

I can't lie in class I wrote rhymes

Had my face in the book resource was on mind

Never said much, my thoughts was online

And my notepad yeah the Son is gon' shine

Even got reprimanded by my school counselor

She said "Son you would never amount to a... "

WHAT!? ! "Successful man with these types of grades

Quit all that rapping jargon throwing all your life away"

And all that hype and praise won't see the light of day

Even my moms tried to pray, hoping my mind would change

But I couldn't keep the fire tamed in

My heart playing beats yo I spend entire days in the dark

Under a desk light, tryna create the darts

Fighting the livest spark, designing a timeless art

The wordsmith, I split these mics apart

Out the dirt, unearth, polish the diamond

[Hell Razah:]

Body bags in the back of the Ave

They keep jacking our swag

Rubber grip on the .44 mag

We write rhymes in a scientist's lab

With a pen and a pad

So our chemistry is murderous gas

I got the underground now in a smash

It's stack digital cash

And rip commercialized niggas in half

Put a slash in his 360

He can't eat with me, unless you come thru the G-60

[60 Second Assassin:]

They gotta

We gon' be what we gonna be

Money, clothes and ho's

We don't care about responsibilities

Love, sex and welfare checks

We gon' be what we gonna be

Gangsters, hustlers and a whole buncha murders for flavors

You're a million miles from 120 degrees, 120 degrees

Nobody's smiling

Cloud 9

[Shabazz the Disciple:]

Now I lay, you down to sleep

I pray to Lord my soul to keep

And if I shall die before I awake

I pray to Lord my soul he take

Another time my mind dwelled on a spell I heard

Cries from the dead souls burning in hell

Visions of their flesh, drowning in the flood

One of the hallucinogens and I seen head soaked in blood

I snapped back to reality, dashed for my Bible

Opened it up, in heavy confusion, reaching for survival

But all of a sudden, I'm overpowered by that curse

The psalms that I read, made my visions worst

Seen a therapist, told 'em spirits tried to bury me

Spilled what's on my mind, when I was done, he needed therapy

He recommended a baptism, a sacrifice

My soul rose to heaven but was cast back down by blast

In forms of thunder, rain, hail, heavy winds

Not even the blood of Christ could cleanse my conscious of sin

[60 Second Assassin:]

Cloud 9