Generation Next
Title | Generation Next |
---|---|
Artist | 9th Prince |
Album | Granddaddy Flow |
Release Date | 2003 |
Description | ? |
Lyrics | [Intro: Islord] Ey yo, I want all y'all niggas out there in this rap shit Claiming y'all rappers Y'all niggas ain't no fucking MCs Know what I'm saying, son? 'Cause once you step into the chamber 'Cause we dealing with the 7th Chamber.. [Verse 1: Islord] Ey yo; witness this homicide lyrical specialist Once I slide on the set like Mt. Everest Avalanches, causing total mayhem In this rap industry, towards any non-descript rapper Who has the strongest heart, and dares to challenge the God? Dart for dart, that's the wrong move Like one cat with a red shirt, stumbling upon Ten cats with blue shirts, each one of 'em Rugered out with clips filled to the brim with hollow points 'Cause I'm on some, fuck all y'all R&B artist-es Thinking y'all MCs, y'all best to Run 4 Cover And throw ya bulletproof helmets on ya head Enough said.. [Verse 2: Infrared] I spit warfare, real shit niggas like to hear Infrared from Ruthless, nigga, crack them beers Twist the 'dro, put the clip in the fo' Cock it back, put one in the head, these niggas don't know? Then let 'em know how we coming Deep, we keep shook niggas running You cowards is afraid of my power, ain't holding nothing Lemme show you something 'bout this rap shit First of all if you ain't spitting acid, you going backwards These Bastards attack shit, fabulous, fatherless Marvelous, Shaolin niggas from stomping with Killarm' T.M.F. connect with Ruthless Challenge new generation, nigga, we the best We out for this cheddar cheese You better freeze if we enemies If ya life's on the line you better squeeze Yo I'm telling these wannabes, about the rules Come out ya shoes, we ain't got nothing to lose [Verse 3: Trife] Ey yo; I floss like a red Porsche beamin' in the sunset You made a dumb bet fucking with these young vets Who bumped heads with the hardest and build with the smartest Five artists, you can't do nothing to part us Niggas is garbage, that need to get bagged up 'Cause their style's ragged up looking like sad pups You'll be jacked up, leakin' with your eyes half shut 'Til you had enough 'cause fucking with us is bad luck The temptation of pussy be hard to pass up So before I slide in I test the cat and strap up Is there a question? You gotta ask us Don't be afraid, but on my behalf you're getting played And where you was at, you should've stayed Now you search for aid, no one to save you And all your so-called men betrayed you They wanting to talk and work deals under the table Passing 'em CREAM, gold watches and large cables They snaked you, like the serpent Turn the lights off and close the curtain Selling their soul to a merchant I got niggas, scared to meet me in person Searching, like the Internet, I got 'em surfing You might also like[Hook: Tommy Whispers] Now Born, Port Richmond, Killah Hill Stapleton, West Brighton, Jungle Nillz In Shaolin we keep it real Shit is getting deep, reach for steel We going all out, do what you feel [Verse 4: Truck] I stick and move, move and stick with niggas If it's real I click with niggas Laying all the fifth with niggas, sick of niggas Simple licking and squeeze faster than with triggers Double dare any niggas, cross me and my city slickers Petty pocket pickers rocking niggas Quick to throw a rock at the bitches Trying to cock-block my riches on a hot block with snitches Still getting dough, still getting hated on the low Still doing sticks with Sideshow, eyes low from hydro Drive slow, beasts on our tail, rain, sleet or hail Catch me on these cold streets stackin' for bail Niggas is lacking the real so I brought the hostility Better off killing me then trying to send me back to a cell [Verse 5: 9th Prince] Ey yo; thugs with rubber grips and hollow joints Sharp lead that fled through your pressure points Celebrity Death Match, we out like an axe Being swung by a serial killer maniac Poetry brainiac, project hoodrats They kill to hear my album Black dust will get you blast Then throw on a ski mask and rob street's asylum 9th Prince, y'all niggas can't solve him These 9 Fingers of Death'll be the answer to your problems My roof is like an infrared, I'm hostile No Smiles, dogs growl when they're on trial Rhymes travel 23 million square miles Mad razor blades, throwing switchblades that'll cut you a fade Lyrical maze, MC's lost for days Within the 9th Chamber, another Wu banger For all my Killah Hillside stranglers [Hook x2: Tommy Whispers] Now Born, Port Richmond, Killah Hill Stapleton, West Brighton, Jungle Nillz In Shaolin we keep it real Shit is getting deep, reach for steel We going all out, do what you feel [Outro: Tommy Whispers] Tommy Whispers, nigga (Bastards!) Word is bond, come on! Revenge of the 9 Fingers God, The Chamber continues Word up Everything is Everything God be the King This Shaolin shit is forever! Forever.. |