After Birth

[Intro: Hell Razah]

You know what I'm about to do to these niggaz right? (Razah Rubiez)

Yeah

[Hell Razah:]

I been had a Paul Wall grill in ninety eight

Y'all going bananas and grapes, but this ain't Bathin' Apes (nah)

I'm like an army, and holdin' ten times my weight

We don't indulge in hate only cause there's dough to make (GET MONEY)

I need a bigger safe, more guns than dinner plates

Tell the Lord I'm straight with faith he can close the gates

I reverse the psychology of Norman Bates (I'm going crazier)

Y'all making mixtapes and damn near pushin' forty (look at these niggaz)

I'm on some Uncle Paulie, street version of Barry Gordy

Another bad shorty caught up into having orgies (Damn)

They kiss my pinky ring and sing when they come before me

Keep seeing Q pushin' Bishop off that top story

They want Biggie's fame, Jay's spot and Pac's glory (damn)

You ain't a role model, you just a dead junkie

You wanna throw on a doo-rag and Red Monkey's (ha, ha, ha)

I'm breaking bread counting money from another country

And if the fed's want me tell dem niggaz bounty hunt me (come and get me)

Cause I ain't turnin' myself in, I drop gems

Until I'm up in that top ten with Rakim's

Slick Rick, Razah Rubiez, KRS-One, Kane (I said)

[Chorus: Hell Razah w/ ad-libs]

Life is a gamble the way it go round

You now trapped in the sound of the Renassiance Child

They surround me with love, for the way I get down

You see the real respect real, I already been crowned

You just a slave with a deal son, y'all niggaz is clowns

You just a slave with a deal son, these niggaz is clowns

[Hell Razah:]

What's all the beefin y'all releasin on these dvd's?

When you ain't got shit to write about to teach these seeds

You'se a Protool emcee without no plug-ins

Your connects get shut off and y'all not buzzin'

Niggaz necks get cut off if I'm not grubbin'

We came from project dungeons to rappin' in London

Built the fanbase up in Kuwait for mixtapes

Get cake like Columbian thugs that ship weight

Been great since eighty-eight jams and milk crates

Fans fell for ya hooks and ya lines that's fishbait

It's not hate just them killers that's real, you spit fake

Get a deal and turn Micro-Soft like Bill Gates

Gotta hire more security still to feel safe?

Run in ya room whenever it show an illstate

Take notes it's the Renassiance Child

And remember my style

Cause when you floss you get be-headed for crowns

You might as well put on a night gown and tight lingerie

The way y'all homo videos be looking today

Tell ya stylist to put you in some hoodie's and Timbs

Instead of hiding in ya Benz, you could visit ya friends (ha, ha, ha)

[Chorus: w/ ad-libs]

[Outro: Hell Razah]

Take this shit man

We ain't got much time left man

There's no more games to be playing

It's reality