DJ Premier - The Come Up lyrics

[Intro] Just gimme the countdown Know where we goin' {*scratched: "AZ"*} Uh-huh {*"AZ"*} {*"Streets is yours for the taking now"*} Feels so good {*"AZ"*} [Verse 1] You know the come up, stack, get right, put the gun up Laugh, get nice, split the blunt up Pray blue and whites don't run up, remain humble You see the change when the Range come through When all the fame ups your game ‘Cause your name's mumbled The chicks notice j**els, it's like hypnosis It's ferocious when broke n***as get focused The cars come out, bottles at the bar run out You know you're large when you in charge Could dodge a drought But here's the twist up, when beef and the money mix up Skirts lift up, a few fights, few stick-ups Then one little thing just leads to the next And here come them hot boys to breathe down your neck Now you gotta pack up, flee from the rest And just a week ago, you was free from the stress I guess it is what it is [Hook: DJ Premier scratching] "Creepin on a come up" "Streets is yours for the taking now" "Creepin on a come up" "I'm from the place where hardcore is beautiful" "Creepin on a come up" "Streets is yours for the taking now" "I'm rather unique" "I'm from the place…" "Brooklyn" [Verse 2] You know the saga, who liver, who hotter Who shot at who at the Ramada I knew about beats since Bambaataa Before "Beat Street" streets was heavily deep with the riders Guns and money, some was hungry Dysfunctional families that come from junkies Jailbirds with wanted warrants jumpin' countries Just jungle surviving like a bunch of monkies Marked dollars, D.A. NARC's with collars n***as snitchin', but still got the heart to holla Hot chicks in short skirts and damn near topless Play fly and they gossip, stay high and just ride dick Can't call it, too fresh to spoil it Two TEC's to war with, grew up next to all this So understand, I know from firsthand The lies of a church man, high off his first gram [Hook] [AZ] The jails is packed, the streets is wack It's even worse when your workers tappin' your reefer sack Wifey's getting feisty, she's beefin' back Though it's unlikely, it might be her Visa's maxed The coke is up, so now Kush and Dro's what's up And the Ricans got the game in the cobra clutch The D's in the caprice too close to duck But what the f**, they can s** on some coconuts The stress is real, it drains all the s** appeal Nothing left but jail, d**h or a record deal Vibes is weak, hoes wanna slide and creep Even fiends got a thing for that hide and seek Stick-up kids, kidnap, switch up cribs It's still crazy how them co*ks**ers hit up Big 'Pac is gone, the state of hip-hop is wrong You want more then log on to A-Z dot com [Hook] w/ ad libs