Cardinal Sins

Album cover art for "Cardinal Sins" by B-1

B-1 - Rap

Cardinal Sins

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Lyrics

[Intro: B-1] Yo [Verse 1: B-1] Sippin' Hennessy with wedges of lemon, pleasure addicted livin' Low Caesars with sharp edges and women Allah taketh and giveth, whoever thought That I'd be up in hotel resorts pushin' my terror sports? Woodgrain consoles, thugs with hearts froze Club hoes, cop Tahoe straight from car shows I need a place to vacate with a climate that's lovely Bitches to rub me, a crescent moon above me But right now my peeps is locked in Fort Dix, caught for bricks Penalised for rockin' new whips and pourin' Cryst' Rejected bitches crank me, rap lovers, they thank me A pro tryin' to get dope, long and lanky Large desires, four screens, Mickey Thompson tires Accomplished writer faced with harmful reminders Of death and paralyzation, I'm pacin' Creedmoor's talkin' about placement as a patient While unknown minerals are stretchin' the base The fiends is stressin' the taste, lookin' like death in the face Stay scented with oils, rocks is wrapped in foil Livin' in a race, tryna attain life spoils Acura flagships, pharmacists like a drag strips We broke felony offenders who never had shit Santa needs the commando, journey through The streets in the Land Rover, ounces wholesale, [?] row [Chorus: Kool G Rap] You go against the grain, kid, I tell you simple and plain You catch a slug inside the temple, blown about the frame Ain't nothin' sweet, kid, you get lifted off your feet in the game I holds it down and any real nigga'd do it the same [Verse 2: Bomb] Straight out the cellblock, walkin' the [?], yeah I leave your ass brawled up with a fork in your ear I'll be here until the year 2010 Posin' on my fix-up, settlin' in Used to get my dick sucked, sippin' on Gin Murderous material I spit, loadin' the clip God spray, broad day, nigga kill up shit Drag the rooftop with no socks, you're thrown off quick Who want war? We 'bout to land, see the shore We observed your whereabouts then blaze your door High intensity, explicitly raw and that's that I idolize Buck, Tommy [?] After hours, spot drunk with a bitch on my lap Make my way through the crowd, adjustin' my cap Turn me up a notch, fuck Giuliani and cops Cross my path, get splashed with numerous shots We can scramble with the semis, nine millies and Glocks Weaponless, hand checkin' it, fifty-two blocks Whatever the fuck you want, Dons best the dogs Mass murder, blast burner, ship ass to Moore [Chorus: Kool G Rap] You go against the grain, kid, I tell you simple and plain You catch a slug inside the temple, blown about the frame Ain't nothin' sweet, kid, you get lifted off your feet in the game I holds it down and any real nigga'd do it the same [Verse 3: Kool G Rap] Down like it's Al Pacino, Rino, the tinted Paselino The mad Dino with a bambino, the gambino Bigger than Jim Colosimo, my reservoir dogs, the Tarantino Scales from Venezuela around the C-Note Makin' a block out of the Jalapeños G. Luciano, we wettin' shit like Pesci in casino Fifty dollars cigars [?] for Bosnia The mafia, Don parlay like Garcia Drugs are on the baby [?] bear The inmate behind the bar for ya From Poconos to Panama skier Done with the parmesan, ready to bomb like Vietnam with arms Cause a holocaust, the phenomenon The cheddar spreader, the killer with the gold Beretta, nigga deader The sweater wetter with the hollow letter, drama setter Shabbat [?] gettin' better, kids [?] shredder Infrared, I'll blow out for all my better The Godfather, the problem solver Comin' through with the six-shot revolver, hot as lava Gun skills is real and in the Ville I be the barber Gangster sauna, that motherfuckin' face goner [Chorus: Kool G Rap] You go against the grain, kid, I tell you simple and plain You catch a slug inside the temple, blown about the frame Ain't nothin' sweet, kid, you get lifted off your feet in the game I holds it down and any real nigga'd do it the same You go against the grain, kid, I tell you simple and plain You catch a slug inside the temple, blown about the frame Ain't nothin' sweet, kid, you get lifted off your feet in the game I holds it down and any real nigga'd do it the same

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Credits

Writers
  • Kool G Rap
  • B-1
  • Bomb (NYC)
  • Chuckie Madness