Gangsta Shit

Lyrics

[Intro: Trife Diesel] Uh-huh, let's go, know what I mean? Lot of these muthafuckin' rappers Talking alot of bullshit on these tracks You know what I mean? They dry snitching, throwing indirect Well this what we gon' do, man We gon' flush all these rats out the system Know what I mean? Set a few traps Get they ass up out of here, yeah, yo [Verse 1: Trife Diesel] For all y'all niggas with them Nextels, chirpin' and bleepin' On them walkie talkies frontin', like y'all work for the precint 10-4 niggas claiming they hustlers, soon as they cuff ya In interrogation booths, y'all confessing like Usher Do the crime, do the time, that's the way I was taught And fuck surrending to jake, nigga, I'd rather get caught You got these niggas on camera, frontin' hard with they team Wavin' they hammers, incriminating theyself on the screen Roleplaying, imitating some movie they seen That ain't gangsta, real gangsta niggas generate CREAM And now you wonder why the FEDS come knock me Infiltrating the system Don't be suprised nigga, you let those cops in Plus the record labels is watching, you think they gonna sign you? You think they gonna put up that bread and get behind you Reality check, stupid, let me remind you All that tryna push ya way through the door, deceased in 9-2 [Hook: Trife Diesel] Yah-yo, yah-yo, this is that gangsta shit Go 'head and roll ya window down and crank that shit Whether ya red or blue, homey, bang yo click My New York niggas get money, and slam those bricks Yah-yo, yah-yo, this is that gangsta shit Go 'head and roll ya window down and crank that shit Whether ya red or blue, homey, bang yo click My New York niggas get money, and slam those bricks [Verse 2: Trife Diesel] In the hood, I'm a legend like John, I've never been harmed On the block shooting dice, holding bread in my palm Gatten Island niggas, yeah we got a fetish for arms Berettas tucked in our leathers, strapped with terrorist bombs Shorties, running around with more Gunz than Corey Getting high off weed smoke, blowing your funds on forties You'll be amazed how these rappers try to run with stories This ain't a novel, muthafucka, this is guts and glory Pain and struggle, the game will crush you, it's a everyday hustle You want to eat, you better strain your muscles Hopeless martyrs, afraid when approached by mobsters With them grams, call me Sam the way I'm "coachin'" "carters" With starters, listen homey we can never be partners Don't get it twisted, handle business with my hands and revolvers The grown man, that'll touch up your wig, like beauty parlors Pop niggas, like, how we pop bottles, you do the honors, nigga [Hook: Trife Diesel] Yah-yo, yah-yo, this is that gangsta shit Go 'head and roll ya window down and crank that shit Whether ya red or blue, homey, bang yo click My New York niggas get money, and slam those bricks Yah-yo, yah-yo, this is that gangsta shit Go 'head and roll ya window down and crank that shit Whether ya red or blue, homey, bang yo click My New York niggas get money, and slam those bricks [Verse 3: Tommy Whispers] Spot you twenty points, and you still can't win You can't compare Grey Goo' to gin, you too thin Ya'll niggas is hubcaps fuckin' with big rims If the shoe fit, then put your foot in my Timb' Masked up, hoodies and gems, I couldn't defend Your title small, a deuce-deuce next to a rifle The hackle'll snipe you, disconnect and dis-mic you Disrespect your rivals, have you dancing like Michael Moonwalker, uh-huh, platoon bark, goons in the dark Only lights from the spark, boom-boom in the parks Vocals in fumes from my darts, lead the roofs on the part Fuck up your happy home, daddy's back with a chrome Snatchin' ya throne, you mimicking, you actually cloned Finish him, I'm crackin' ya bones, diminishing Real terror, purple men, backed off pistoling Like them papies uptown, them hammers is whistling [Hook: Trife Diesel] Yah-yo, yah-yo, this is that gangsta shit Go 'head and roll ya window down and crank that shit Whether ya red or blue, homey, bang yo click My New York niggas get money, and slam those bricks Yah-yo, yah-yo, this is that gangsta shit Go 'head and roll ya window down and crank that shit Whether ya red or blue, homey, bang your click My New York niggas get money, and slam those bricks [Outro: Trife Diesel] Uh-huh, yeah, 718 Criminal grind, Theodore Trife Da God Yo Slay, what up, my nigga? Tommy Whispers, Kryme Life, nah'm'sayin'? Money Come First T.M.F. we getting money over here Gatten Island niggas, know what I mean? Where the guns go off