For You

[Produced by Markis Precise] [Intro: Scratching] Strong Arm Steady It's the Strong Arm Steady from the west This ain't a pop song This is Strong Arm Steady I represent my clique Please introduce youself... Krondon [Verse 1: Krondon] Automatic magazine, shyeah Mayhem, a tragic scene, yeah Left a nigga, David Carradine No disrespect to the dead, I'm trying to paint a scene Mayday, mayday, murder with an M16 Mini massacre, sting worse than Listerine You see him Batty boy, him playing Byzantine With them pause action, switching on TV That Black Uhuru, that young Buju [?] and do it pronto The head honcho in the [?] poncho [?] for the fly hoes, shit That's interested all in my clothes, they call me over She's at the door in a robe, you know it's over Yeah, yeah, it's over, when I fucking get up I don't know her [Hook1: Scratching] Phil the Agony You know the name I'm a hold mine, steady spitting cold lines You know the Strong Arm Steady don't play I blast at any knucklehead fucking with rap Check how I handle my flow Phil the Agony, y'all Take a trip somewhere on the west side [Verse 2: Phil the Agony] Los Angeles, I-5, 405, 110 to 105, I pounded a lot My flow open the roads, punching in miles Dogg Food, Dogg Pound album, so many styles Miles Davis, Malibu mansion, dancing out in the Hamptoms A Puffy Daddy party with Scarlett Johansson White linen, pink champagne, fly women play the background In pictures we frame, then send them back out For postcards of [?] we at Fuck the Coast Guard, I just want my privacy back Taking phone calls of blocked numbers that might be Louise Overseas they all have families from West Indies She got the jet skis from Tahoe to Sao Paulo Brazil, ill models, bottles of Dom, '93 chill Steady nigga, Strong Arm, what up [Hook 2: Scratching] Mitchy Slick San Diego Business, I'm with the business Not the radio Steady's at the pinnacle To the Steady, Slick runs the gangsta shit [Verse 3: Mitchy Slick] I had this gift since I was a kid, I entertained the streets By being a gun ventriloquist, busting at me cussing niggas Out at the functions, soon as a nigga say something My gun's gums start to buck from protocol You're obligated to handle all busting When your g homies stunting at the gathering While you talking trash and gambling Yeah our peoples soon to start having then You see what I'm already brandishing Million dollar cowboy who got hit by clacking first Nigga shouldn't have dissed the turf Now there's shit squirting out his shirt See my clickers like to mob and being family has its perks Every nigga got a job and everyone done put in work We ain't afraid of the horror that comes from the gruesomest punishment Done to enemies, triple murder to prove we big Mama weeping after the [?] streets sweeping The reaper rocking green robe when he creeping for the Lincolns [Hook 3: Scratching]