Whatever

"I think of sometime" - sample repeated throughout the song

[Intro: Streetlife]

I see him... Killa... blast on 'em, never

Yo..

[Streetlife]

I got the drop on you, don't flinch

Pop niggaz like John Lynch

Leave niggaz in they own stench

I'mma light drinker, heavy smoker

Known for duckin' show promoters

Pass the money, over, my whole crew is ex-cons

Be alarmed, when you hear the *err-urrrrr*

It's on, Silverback niggaz under the stairs

When we link up, we travel in pairs

Ya'll niggaz best to beware of the most thoroughest

Cover all aspects, four corners

You can't creep up on us

I'm takin' one for the team, deal me in

And when the smoke clears, do it again

This ain't a side show, you can die slow

There's no I in team, we all ride... yo!

The Masta brought the ceremony, this is my testament

Homicide Housing, that's what I represent

[Prodigal Sunn]

Criminal gun play, chemical dream to P.J.'s

Last raid, another fed paid, bed rum: Sunday

The world dyin' for the love of money

Expensive chains, intensive pain from that cocaine

Condition the brain, children in strain, as I look back

Memory lane, civil and plain, it be in fame

A major part of the game, chemistry grain

Foolish kids ran when I came

Forty acres, five percent of terrain

Spark right through my vein tunnel, aim through this jungle of rain

A lot of haters wanna see us hang

But watch me bang as in Eagle/Crane

Step back, shatter your frame

Another victim in the system where he barely sustained

Forkin' in, I sold a million way, his first campaign

Sippin' rosemary cherry champagne, nigga

The young and the dangerous, water on the wrist, ice cryst'

Talk with a lisp, then I be top of your list

[Chorus: Streetlife]

We all in this together, forever and ever

Down for whatever, whenever, yeah, yeah

We all in this together, forever and ever

Down for whatever, whenever

[Masta Killa]

Check the Words from the Genius, that was written in pen

Murder gloves, hide the fingerprint, but never the sin

Ghetto prophet that's born to quote

Got the crimies, behind me, with the face on stroke

Don't provoke, trust son, that thing bust, and we roll dangerous

Who can handle us, when we rush the clubs on thrust

Yo, don't miss the lead vocalist, terrorist

Wu-Tang, a pure danger, the God hold a fort

Teach law, universal, beatdown, my stomping ground

We hold courts in the streets of New York

Snort the gun powder, eyes stay red like fire

Cut the mic wire, hit a love ballad note

Pen stroke, beautiful quote, for you to deep throat

Ghetto life had to rough up in the housing

They only make 'em us, every twenty five thousand

[Chorus]