Downtown Swinga

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Billy Danze] You niggas fakin' I'm not your regular rap singer A bell ringer, yeah, a DOWNTOWN SWINGA' And if I got to use my pistol to dismiss you herbs With something to prove Kid I ain't got nothing to lose It's Billy Danze, holding up the slack So jump if you want chump, cause I bust caps CLACK CLACK! Salute to all my CD's Hill figga' nigga drink brew and puff weed Yeah we like it raw, plus we keep it real The B-I-Double L-Y, and what you feel? That I will flip the script and fled from the scene I'm still in the 'ville, I'm still with my home team Coming through with the crew, you can't accept it From CROOKLYN! Home where it's definitely hectic Before rapping I was capping, 1-7-1-8 gun slinger Bill, a Downtown Swinga' [Verse 2: Lil' Fame] It's 1994 motherfuckers gets slayed And my freestyles are no longer freestyles Cause now I'm getting paid I be the same Lil' Fame, ain't a damn thing changed Except I smoke a $20 bag of weed a day The downtown swinga', the ex-crack slinger The ruckus bringer, the motherfucking bell ringer Cause Lil' Fame ain't taking the bull And when I die make sure you Bury me with a cassette of Paid in Full Kid, fuck all the flamma-lamma I'm from the place where niggas be jumping up out of the bammas Clapping niggas with the hammers Enemies squeeze triggers, niggas get bumped off and dumped off So I'm strapped to clap whenever the shit jump off My missions is letting competition know the deal Who we be (M.O.P REPRESENTING THE REAL) You see it, I be it, and at the same time bring a Ruckus sound for ground, it's the DOWNTOWN SWINGA' *scratching M.O.P.* [Verse 3: Lil' Fame & Billy Danze] I'm known for wrecking microphones M.O.P.'s the fattest as a matter of fact the maddest, the baddest Herbs, you know the status I do a bad job, a real job You wouldn't be safe with God Because I'm moving with the ill squad Rappers come frontin', ain't nothing weak here Ain't nothing sweet here, breaking comp down like a beach chair *CLACK-CLACK, CLACK-CLACK, CLACK-CLACK, CLACK-CLACK, CLACK-CLACK, CLACK-CLACK BLOCKA-BLOCKA, BLOCKA-BLOCKA, BLOCKA-BLOCKA, BLOCKA-BLOCKA, BLOCKA-BLOCKA, BLAOW* The M.O.P. is going back, way before a herb got a gat Whenever it was a crisis pulling heists kept us phat The Brownvillians is illin', kid, it gets deep That's why I tell motherfuckers to back and play me feet We workin' with 9's, TECs, IMFs, MACs Hammers with some power that will eat right through your back Until the death, until the day I'm dead from flipping at someone's Nina Chill, a DOWNTOWN SWINGA' *scratching M.O.P.* [Outro]: Uh, check it out y'all Downtown Swingas up in the house, representin' Brooklyn, Brownsville, word up, Southeast New York, Gang Starr, Bed-Stuy, no doubt, Brownsville, my man Biggie Smalls, hold me down...