Here Come The Gangstas

[Chorus:]

"Here come the gangstas...Uh huh

and you can't see their face...Uh huh" [x2]

"They're comin' for you"

[Verse 1:]

CT all day, bad news all day

Grade school teacher moved my desk into the hallway

Trouble starter, mother/father taught me how to hustle harder

See dough like Nino, but fuck The Carter, must be smarter

Apply the profit 'till my pockets overflow

Any opposition tryin' to stop it and I'll overthrow

Comin' out buckin' like a cowboy on a bull at a rodeo

Throw you in a hole below the stone where the ??? go

Flows that all your homies know from Canada to Tokyo

I'm steppin on your toes like an amateur that dosey doe

Scientific, typical, a genius is the evilest

Who raised hell so high, the Eskimos are feverish

Be cool, 'cause me even dealin' with these fools

Is kinda like a rocket scientist teachin' pre-school

Y'all swear to God that ya gangsta gangsta

But reality'll rearrange ya

[Chorus]

[Verse 2:]

Even with all the hate and love that I've received

I sit and read off the page 'till my iris bleed

I've seen it all from the backwoods, 'burbs and trees

Overseas, back to CT, home to me

To them shitty city blocks, dudes hustlin' ki's

Where the breeze blows excess weaves like tumbleweeds

I'm up 24/7 with beats in my head

No time to sleep, son, I'll sleep when I'm dead

And I ain't really sweatin' all that MC shit

Forget 'em, I buy backpackers and trendy chicks

'Cause when I start to see success, then the envy hits

They used to love me, now I'm on their enemy list

I'm tryin' to write the right song that'll get me rich

Dip in the Hollywood hills 'till my Bentley flips

My flow's fluid as a wave that a jetski skips

My wife's Japanese and white, little sexy bitch

My pen's a MAC-10, my freestyle's a shell

My cell was set with a speed dial for Hell

So...no more thinkin' that you're gangsta gangsta

But reality'll rearrange ya

[Chorus]

[Bridge x2:]

It's all gangstas, gangstas at the top of the list

So I play my own shit, it goes somethin' like this

[Verse 3:]

I'm the icing on the cake, money in the bank

Inmates who make shanks out the mixtape case

The look on a fiend's face when his lips taste base

Is based on the fact that crack put him into outer space

Based on that, if this is just based on rap

I keep it basic and just bump bass on tracks

In fact...A lot of y'all think ya gangsta gangsta

But reality'll rearrange ya

[Chorus]

[Outro:]

Yeah, Chum...another Skrilla Guerilla killa

Demigodz, Doe Rakers

What up, Celph? What up, Mo'?

What up, Hoot? What up, Spliff?

What up, E? What up, South Paw?

Yeah...uhh! Uh!