The Push

[Beretta 9] This is for all y'all wanna be Millitant, Camoflauge (Y'all niggas ain't raw) Word up, we 'bout to show you how it's done (Word up man) How to rock the boots (Like this) The camoflauge (Great damn nigga White) The guns (The big ones that go..) [Beretta 9] Yo, watch for the shrapnel admiral Didn't know the kid was tactful My missles whistle at you spactual, subtract you Surrender all, we got you Blitzkrieg, fahtis bleed, it's natural The Army, take out your front line calmly - you like that Tell the Cap' the kids back the Millitant My regiment be five percent put Steelo in Killin these tracks, Beretta on attack This one for my die-hard niggas, watch yo' back Or wind up in the graveyard, in Allah tint Ask the fans, it's the Gods again And if we got to, then we kill again "Louie under, we're making another push" "Get your people together.. lieutenant?" "I got nothin left" "Dig a little deeper" [Superb] Yo.. Up all night writin darts Sniffin the pure, Christmas Eve '99 reminiscin and shit (Bout) who got hit, (Bout) who got bitch (Bout) who bitches that is, who got kids and Who sell crack, who a rapper now Who money-washin, who was P.O Try to get him lockied up but his bitch is C.O And she gon' tell the captain, he gon' buy him a boat The cap' gon' tell the judge, he gon' buy him a goat (And) The judge gon' tell the D.A., he gon' buy him some coke The D.A. gon' tell his lawyer that his client can go And, all y'all niggas mad I got the iron from Ghost And, Chef still cookin what you tryin to get roast Bobby'll beat that ass, Meth do a show in ya coats And Cappadonna, the Masta will Kill ya You fuckin with a true master, fuckin with power You fuckin with the Wu bastards, fuckin with ours We the most livest, most largest, squadrant Sergeants in Africa, thugs from America Live from New York, straight from Florida City All shitty, screamin "Play more Biggie" Hood like you blowin, per blow more quickly Still poppin pain that cause four-fifty I ain't know they was young, I just like short bitches [Islord] Yo, you fucked up when you crossed my line I got the nine, pointed at ya back spine So feel the heat, as I let the lead tear your meat Cuz I represent the real niggas from the streets I'm comin trough blackdown, with the fat tre' pound Strapped, cocked back While my right-hand man plays a role in the back With the mack - Subject to murderous art As I finesse it and also compose the track like Mozart This nine'll script, niggas get finked up In this rap game, it's madly insane So don't go against the grain, or get your life tooken With ya head chopped off, placed in a plastic bag Its Central booking, forever kings [9th Prince] Aiyyo I spit verses that'll bury you beneath the surface A murder this like voodoo curses 9th Prince forever nervous, analog niggas is short-circuit Killa be killas the purpose Guns in holsters what the earth is, musical apocalypse Run up on the label, hold the A and R for a hostage Limps from four-footers who's with it, go 'head spit it The weed and dust makes me kill shit, kill shit... "The way I see it, we've got two choices" "We can settle for being slaughtered in the push tomorrow" "Or we can take those tanks out tonight.." "If we do it, it's just us" "We'll slip past the lines unchecked" "Just another sorry-ass patrol" "Lemme get this straight" "Yesterdauy your point was Section 8" "No" "You wanna lead some renegade force against their tanks"