Priviledge (of Backwoodz Studioz and Green Streets Entertainment) - Slums (Dirty) lyrics

The Reavers (ft. Akir, Priviledge, Goldenchild, billy woods, and Vordul Mega) - “Slums” [Produced by Goldenchild] [Verse 1: Akir] Yo, cops and robbers, fires and gunshots Run through these slum blocks. Call me Sir Hancelot Handle sh** and dismantle, Ak' scrambling just to beat the clock Stashing it just to feed my sock, rationing with my people Pa**ionate about my pantry stock. I'm trying to get it While the getting's good. It's understood that, in my hood, it's going tough Way before it should, tough guys end up with snuffed fires Not doing what they could, dodging out of Dakota ‘Cause they no longer fill their quota. I'll make my money turning shoulders Flipping out Motorolas, color like Crayola While my aim or game is for payola. Catch me running down Fire escapes. Feel the backdraft, throw the coat Up around my waist. Here's the crowbar to just Open your safe. Walk like Shaft: cool and fast n***a, don't lose the path. This is the realm. I'll plan to last And if it's necessary, throw the mask and start blasting Darts of an a**a**in [Hook: Goldenchild and Priviledge] [Priviledge] Assa**inating n***as. Had to be the atrophy New World catastrophe, n***as screaming, (“Ooh yeah”) When the cops come, son, ‘cause we not phased How you gonna catch the rat in his own maze? [Goldenchild] Ayyo, what you gonna do when the guns go blao? Bodies up in the crowd, n***as screaming, (“Ooh yeah”) We living without a meaning. On corners, n***as is fiending Steady clocking demons up in their semen [Verse 2: Priviledge] Ayyo, as heads are supersonic, flowing like colonics Hyperbolic syllabic cess, we De La Mystic Cousin, you would hate to miss it. Sudan how I kick it Says, “D, I'll be blowing trees in the Mezzanine” Prophesized Felestin Point the blue stream on the wall. If it all I'm not good, change the channel. Learnt your values At Crate & Barrel with the arrest of the red states Sexual head games get locked in the vestibule Deacon prize: dick, fuel. Veiled society Black cloaks, ceremonial smoke runs Generations deep. We venerable foes in the streets ‘Cross the country, it's real. Hungry folks Anywhere'll get you for a meal—Philly to Turkmenistan Man, I've been on it like RPG fire ‘Cross the Gaza Strip morning [Interlude 1: Priviledge] And that's real (You nah'mean?). Come on, dawg. Still... [Hook: Goldenchild and Priviledge] [Priviledge] Assa**inating n***as. Had to be the atrophy New World catastrophe, n***as screaming, (“Ooh yeah”) When the cops come, son, ‘cause we not phased How you gonna catch the rat in his own maze? [Goldenchild] Ayyo, what you gonna do when the guns go blao? Bodies up in the crowd, n***as screaming, (“Ooh yeah”) We living without a meaning. On corners, n***as is fiending Steady clocking demons up in their semen [Verse 3: Goldenchild] Turn the page See your man on the mic rock the crowds ‘Cause we do what we like, hold it down And never run ‘cause we fight for the soul And the words to be right, hoping those Understand our plight. Underground, Terror Firma be light Backwoodz, if you got ‘em, we like Retro spirits through the sparks of the night. Speak true sh** at you ‘cause it's right. Drop j**els, never confuse We keeping it tight. Uh, uh [Bridge 1: Goldenchild] We keep you rocking and you moving (And you moving) We're in a war and we are losing (We're losing) And everybody is amusing (Amusing) We're caught up in lies and we are losing (We're losing) [Verse 4: billy woods] I came to smoke The fixes in, even though I weren't broke Quick to grin, not off that dope Without a syringe and she deepthroat Once the bottle spin, me and her mighty low Hollow men swallow dope and lay God Seeking hope in chaos. Apollo's hungry Man of war—morning's door Daisy cutters blasting cars. Follow the money Fat man in the land of the starving Begging your pardon, Mr. President, for life But the sarge and majors plotting at night Razor edge on the knife. They want your spot Beware the Ides of March. We want rice Cars with spare parts and tripe in a pot Like it or not, anywhere outside the Capital is hot. Better gas up the jets Terrorists tiptoeing with threats. Place your bets Five cigarettes says revolution won't Change sh** (f** you thought?) [Bridge 2: Goldenchild] And this is why I make our music Because it's real, I know you feel it And this is why we make our music (Terror Firma) For this reason, it's very therapeutic [Verse 5: Vordul Mega] Rage against time, moving in lines Trying to get cheddar writing these letters Hoping things'll get better As we strike a piety of vendettas Suffering from poverty in a man's checking Giving lectures lacking mercy They're trying to chop our heads off, so we stay thirsty Popping, we clever with thoughts that'll sever The limbs of a ill society. We doves Get by on trees and we love being heat Under, believing in each other, surviving Knowing we each scuff amongst beasts Live with a street hunger, feed the lung with Purified air and herbs, living truth Through these words. Times hard when you need money In the eye of a storm, see thunder And electrify souls. Terror Firma