Ah What's mine's I love, and I fight, push to shove Hand to hand?, but you can't stop the love You push to impress, and I leave you with less It's real love for the mics that I bless, no quest' What's mine's I love, and I fight, push to shove Hand to hand?, but you can't stop the love You push to impress, and I leave you with less It's real love for the mics that I bless, no quest Can't stop the love, I know you sayin' I'ma young nigga Don't get it fucked up 'cause I move with them thug niggas From old, to life we straight sparkin' light Bring light to the darkest nights Blast, blast, P in your area (M, O) Make a move and them cats might bury ya Now that your trapped and your fuckin' with thugs Let me tell your punk ass what I love I love to see motherfuckers, that show no love And start speakin' out like a bitch when you catch 'em in the club I love, when a slug cat shut down And then try to post up when they damn near cut his ass down I love, trying to reach all parts of the map On a Ninja, with a big Buddha bitch on a back I love, cats that rap and still drip checks Like your man Lil' Fame, Bill Danze and triple x What's mine's I love, and I fight, push to shove Hand to hand?, but you can't stop the love You push to impress, and I leave you with less It's real love for the mics that I bless, no quest' Aiyo, you know what I love (What's that?) It's when motherfuckers assume That they ass can't get popped at 12 o'clock in the afternoon I got the balls to come through your walls, like (Boom) Have an orgasm every time I clear the fuckin' room Nah, not just yet (Niggas is gone) I need to see you son of a bitches sweat What I got, son, my shit is prop', son (I love) With Prem' in the drivin' seat and Freddie Fox ridin' shotgun Here is the ultimate (Stop son) Somethin' I love is when thugs be bumpin' my shit Niggas with heat, niggas that's deep (I love, I love) Niggas that regulate the streets (Sho' nuff) Mic blessin, Smith and Wessun caressin' With the Desert Storm impression (First family) The lesson, I advise if your not ready to ride On the homicide side, nigga slide What's mine's I love, and I fight, push to shove Hand to hand?, but you can't stop the love You push to impress, and I leave you with less It's real love for the mics that I bless, no quest' I love beats that are hardcore, dirty and raw I love takin' niggas burners when they scared to draw I love plottin' on my enemies, I love to attack I love beatin' niggas down when they rhymes is whack I love seeing emcees struggle to make Themselves something that us real niggas love to hate It's too late, I love my Ninas and I love my, fours Blowin' holes through the project doors in, knive wars, nigga I love the feeling, and the rush that I get From, Sam, run the Rolex watch with the diamond begets I love, how my life was intact without a deal How I kept the newest chromes on my automobile I love the fact that rappers make the dough, without a flow Soft niggas, that I stain, like piss in the snow I love the fact that I survived through the roughest of times And break the mic when I want, with the roughest of rhymes It's a luxury to see me emcee It's so hard, this lyrical brutality, feed's a nigga's mentality I love, when you niggas claim to be great Knowin' your mob ain't never lettin' shit, what the fuck is this? Niggas bustin' shots on New York, I get my vest on Twenty rhyme clips in my mic, I get my bless on Loan soldier standin' on the front line, I fear none Excuses that you give me for your lyrics, I hear none You niggs ain't no real emcee's You Sam Goody ass niggas can't write without suckin' down trees So I love, laughin' at you niggas, while you clappin' at me I split your head shot from your man, while he's slappin' at me I feel the hits from your rounds Your hollow points make a nigga wobble But, I won't fall down Yeah, you motherfuckers see it, come on What's mine's I love, and I fight, push to shove Hand to hand?, but you can't stop the love You push to impress, and I leave you with less It's real love for the mics that I bless, no quest' Aiyo, aiyo, aiyo For all them sucka ass niggas that don't know, when I crawl up out the whole And I got M.O.P. with me, baby, ain't nowhere You can run ain't nowhere you can hide (To the life) With hot slugs at both sides Split your back open wide Niggas from the East Side © BLIND MAN'S BLUFF MUSIC; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com