La The Darkman - Now Y Lyrics

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Yeah yeah yo yo

Yeah yeah yo trapacanti yo

When i walk these streets like bamboo i'm strapped

Get your brain tapped by forty-four caliber gats

It ain't like that cats gotta learn to relax

If i let the gun clap you have no wish you're on your ass

If you see at cat without his vest hangin' by his neck

Then la done it i'm tryin' to see this benz six-hundred

With a fly bitch a gat and cognac gettin' blunted

Readin' the tablet of my money from the kids that i fronted

You don't want it shootin' slugs outta an armored green lex

From four pounds that fuck you up like a plane wreck

Don't gamble with a tech car is quicker than the eye

My style top secret like the bosnian spy

Now y new york have you laced in chalk

The south bronx what you thought when we let are guns talk?

It's bloodsport the darkman call it like he sees

Been in buildings doin' eighty in a black m3

Medallion swingin' on linx costin' 'bout ten g's

N.y.c. where killas bust cops at me

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Source - http://www.kovideo.net/now-y-lyrics-la-the-darkman-475162.html

When i walk these streets like bamboo i'm strapped

Get your brain tapped by fourty-four caliber gats

It ain't like that cats gotta learn to relax

If i let the gun clap you have no wish you're on your ass

New york ain't fuckin' playas we love gun sprayers

Movin' crack from the streets of manhatt' to the himalayans

Amadeus why these cali craps tryin' to front?

Ass gotta cut ropes tryin' to bungee jump

Tight cunt all white planes roll we night creepers

In bubble coats eight hundred beapers force one sneakers

I stay fly holdin' it down for my block

What up ock? you could get a four-four shot

And don't think it can't happen 'cuz you on the tv rappin'

I sneakin' from b.x. b.k. and the staten

Manhatten and queens jookin' kids for rings

New york new york the big city of dreams

Some rap legends were put in jail you thought we failed

Now i'm back like ll when he was rockin' the bells

Takin' rap back to the days of food stamps and tramps

Pit stains in the stair case and vise-grip clamps

Kid i'm amped cats try to diss the originators

In land cruisers on timbs subways and elevators

Holdin' steel you frontin' niggaz better get real

I'm gettin' money blow my nose with a hundred dollar bill

How you feel? and fuck where you at it's where you from

To that cats that's eighty-five blind deaf and dumb

Run and get your gun i come in the name of allah

To my people the inglewood family swine power refined

You can't see we runnin' outta time

If the east and west kill each other who gon' shine?

We losin' our mind this rap shit is turnin' into crime

Nowadays soft niggaz bust techs and nines

So what?

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