Something To Believe In

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Lou Armstrong] Cheya! Slaine, what up? Er'day I wake up to the same shit, I've been cakin', cheya But nowadays the more niggas hatin', cheya They in the cut sittin' patient Waiting for me to meet God or Satan Cheya, I'm in the streets where the killers roam Them villains know if you fake like silicone You talk about it but inside the kid a clone And under pressure he'll fold, man I should've known Shit I deal with, tryin' to make a mil. quick Still sick, can't find a real chick to chill with I know about a dollar, neck frozen by the collar Them O's and then them timers, Goons holding on a Llama's TEC blowing for the drama, Got a Trojan for your mama While she blowin' on this gamma, getting low in the Bahamas Slaine said Lou, "Get on some lyrical shit" It's a miracle I ain't spiritual the shit that I lived That real street shit, real niggas that I eat with Let the heat spit, getting caught and don't see shit Running with killers of the grittiest kind It's Lou Armstrong, AKA The City Is Mine, c'mon [Verse 2: Patrick Starr] Three things I hate girls, women and bitches Spit venom I hock spit, Vivica licked it Cynical fit a lyrical dick, I'm hot My temp is dipped in lyrical whip, I'm not To be fucked with, Period lips With them pyramids I'm buried with spirituals fixed next to me Your whole crew is a terrible mix I'm a Don you're a pawn, America's bitch And you're quick to verticle flip Which means you snitch of heard of a tip bitch Niggas skin you and turn you to mix Magic, Similar to an Earvin was sick Tragic, that's wear to a turban that ticks Flowing up memorial, sartorial showing it's fixed You're an orphan and me I done fathered you And often I'm awesome, the chips I done offered you It's big deal, but the deal might cost you [Verse 3: Moroney] Heyyo, Moroney, I'm the best bar none These lame ass rappers got bars, none I shit bars it's a bar stool High off hallucinogenics, looks like a cartoon Spark tools, harpoons are harm dudes Wet 'em up while they in the whip, that's a carpool Your girlfriend is a bitch and you are too But she's down for the D too, so don't argue Anak-fly-talker Skywalker, high off a That Sour Patch, holla back if you let your dollars stack Cats try to hate but take pics and ask for autographs Copycats hang 'em up to dry like a towel rag I told y'all I ain't the runner up, I'm so high, I'm literally running up Blunted up, with two L's, that's a double Dutch I'm on the bottom she's on the top, I'm cumming up [Verse 4: Blanco] The beam ready homie, got 'em dropping like right now Them things heavy on me, get 'em poppin' like right now Y'all better back down, quiet or hype down Or have some niggas right now, lying your ass down Cause when the beef come these niggas never there We gonna bring it to your mans or whoever there I got them dudes on the streets and they rubber band Bullets crushing bones you can see we ain't never scared You can see that we everywhere O-Town to Bean Town, BX to B-More Still on the block trying to see checks to see more We ain't gonna stop till the whole team eat more We Hit Makerz, we get paper Get chicks to taste us, Berra said it the best And we ain't gonna stop never put it to rest It's HM motherfucker we the best of the best [Verse 5: Slaine] Look we all need somethin' to believe in And this world i live inside of yeah it's trife You can pray to Jesus Christ for your fuckin' life if you like You can be the white picket fence type with the wife You can knock her up twice, hang the fuckin' Christmas lights From the pipes, you know that bitches trife When you come home from work and you find her gettin' piped By some jerk, do you kill her with the knife? 'Cause the world crushed all that you believe in And she's livin' with the mailman in your crib And your kid's call him daddy while their Mama drive a Caddy That those cocksuckers paid for with your bread I would rather sip Goose from a plastic cup Get sucked by my broad 'til I crash the truck I would rather quit a job, where they treat me like a slob Turn the motherfuckin' mall to a massacre Swear to God I ain't livin' like a dog I'm taking what I want 'til I'm livin' in the prison or a morgue Talkin' to myself the television isn't on Smokin' chron' on the lawn writin' rhythms to a song That's who I been man, who I'll always be I'm still the same kid back from them hallways G So fuck you if the world's against me I'll change the story all around I'mma emcee