Inspectah Deck - 10304 lyrics

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Inspectah Deck - 10304 lyrics

[Intro: Inspectah Deck] U.D.'s, yeah, yeah [Inspectah Deck] We grindin', down to the bone, my name grounded in stone Admist the founders, we loungin' with chrome And mix the finest, we down to this home Hit the housin' or roam Shinin' like a hundred thousand in stones Move mountains with poems, got a jones for Deniro 1-6-0, my zone, we throwin' elbows The hoes bling, sure thing, we known kings Only dime types, with minds right, we chose queens 5-0 sting, they want me thrown in the bing Cuff me up, f** me up, still your boy won't sing Authentic like the U.S. mint The hood hear me like when two techs spit Seen me movin' in the blue S6 With some new red kicks, and a few ecst' hits A ounce of purple and some Wu head chicks Make the Planet Rock like Baambaata, the mad doctor Bad momma slit that a** out the Prada Hit the jackpot, slots for grands in Nevada Pop a brawl like Muhammed and George, and Kid Sha-Sha [Donnie Cash] Since 12, I've been damn near grown, so I'm scared? I'm gon' f** n***as, Cashmere knowin' Past year, showin' gray hair, beards I bares arm, lost fears in the modern day 'Nam, my tears gone Prepare, it's on, now that hibernation, street violation Creep while you faking, study your card, n***as is fraud f** that shakin out the don, I spit for a nation and spit it hard These shots from abroad, they hit your car It's war when the jails from the four, blow through the door And hit your broad, I draw like an artists, hard target Get the job, start to the finish, if I gotta die Let it be, gettin' high off the spinach Chase it down, H E Double N Y, with Guinness Dedicated street chemist, street image Stick to heavy metals like a magnet Rip automatics, spit rapid at your cabbage Flip f*ggots backwards like a mattress Drop bodies like a bad habit, it's Cash, ya'll n***as Will slug ya'll n***as, yeah [La Banga] Yeah, yo, we can stay, back to back, while we handle these tracks Or like when your raw, back to back, handlin' gats The finest in guns, a submachine repeatin' it's claps Prettiest sound, deliverin' rounds, destination Layin' anyone down, coroners essemble your scraps Burnin' them down, whose turn is it now, yours perhaps This sh** is a rap of riddles or mummy, like rubberbands on money As the belt embrace the gun on my dungeries I worry not, and look for a dealer to hit the block If the rap game fail, the streets always got Perserve you a spot, like what goes up, it must come down f** if you accepted or not, knahImeman? These raps stretch out like Yao Ming Took block shots, whose blockin' your goal? It's La, me It's hot, always rollin' that la-la-la-la green That la-la-la-la green, that la-la-la-la green [King Just] It'll only take ten to destroy you and your men Mr. Tokeback, strokes, ain't a joke to the end Who can swim low and sky dive high, against mine In my prime, Optimus shine, the booth be the bottom line Fine as wine, get to the point like a porcupine Throwin' gang signs, slittin' dimes in my spare time Crime doesn't pay, as far as they say sh**, let me tell it, I got pain every day Which way the mix D.J., he play what I play Most rappers can't rap, so they say what I say How you gonna lie and try to deny It's the Art of Dart Throwing...

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