Last 2

Lyrics

[Intro: Young Chris] Yeah It's dark, Free [Verse 1: Young Chris & Freeway] All silence on the hammers I brung Hear the sirens when the ambulance come One hand on my nuts, other hand on my gun Keep that white girl tan, no sun—Free, huh? I'm 'bout to make niggas vacate the place for the rip Put the sting in his face, I pull it straight from my hip I'm the opposite of Chris: I be quaking my shit (Haha) Niggas lift, I'll be making them drip blood, gotta mop up (What!) Yup! Get shot up from the top up (What) Niggas is LV'd down from the socks up Tear that block up, minute I pull that drop up Y'all niggas can cop up, just don't be calling the cops up You know what? We don't rock ratchet carriers Plague like malaria, we will bury your pops fast Then, we coming for you next, yes Tell your niggas to get dressed 'cause they will have to carry you Let them know the Philly boys in the area (Ugh) Bitch I'm daring you, like live radio, airing you Bullets tearing you flesh, fucking up your interior (Woo) Murder you bitches, I'll make it clear to you—Is you hearing us? We flamers, Mike Vick couldn't tame us We Doberman Pinsch niggas, pitbull terriers Y'all inferior, we are Sig Sauer carriers Leave niggas on gurney carriers whenever aiming this It's the dangerous two, classic, you hear the pain in it (Oww) All this bullshit music, niggas should be ashamed of it Ugh, game ain't been the same since we came in it Right back, we changing it, you fucking pups, we taming shit This is real hip-hop Hear the 2Pac, hear the Big Daddy Kane in it All bars are hot, you cannot fire-extinguish it (Ugh) They fade us, translate us through different languages Or get the stainlesses, dont get us confused with the famous shit We on some "dump the tool, leave ya brains on the pavement" shit Funeral-arranging it (Sawed-off gauging it) If you pussies ain't ready for war, don't engage in it You made your bed; now, lay in it (I'll spray in it) Leave you in a puddle of blood, you gotta bathe in it Hit his baby mother, his cuz—nobody making it Your family get the last few (Motherfucker, we the last two!) Yeah! [Verse 2: Beanie Sigel] Well, fuck, I'm the first one To shoot shit up, dog or gun it down (Uh-huh) Walk on up on shit, or run it down Pull a stock on a K, throw a hundred rounds (Ugh) Won't stop til your box lowered under ground Put you in an urn, your bones'll burn The rap gorilla, the wack rap ringtone killa I'm here; to find a nigga equally realer is rare You can meet me in the square if you dare to come near I have no morals (None) Just a whole lot of piss and a dick for you, bullets in a clip for you This is the ignorance (Yeah) At least it looks that way when you witness it, kill all witnesses Bury the hatchet; matter-fact, bury your casket (Ugh) Shoot you up, bury the ratchet (Yeah) Dig it back up if I have to I used to bump niggas, knock niggas out for the practice The shit starter, the shit-finisher, I dont know what's harder— When they release you or when they sentence you Cold steel could raise a nigga temperature (Yeah) Collapse your lungs twist it then push it in you (Ill) You'll piss blood through a catheter (Uh-huh) Four five slugs feel like a bat contacting you Swung by B. Bonds with roids in him B-E number one, who want to bring the noise with me?