Show - Where Ya At lyrics

[Big Punisher] Aiyyo it's funny dunn The two nicest n***as unite as one Collide the sun wit the moon, BOOM!! I leave you brighted from My full of clips, hawk the world into hell when a bullet spit Crucifix myself to the sun, now who you wit? Enter my world of doom, consume fear and feel the panic I ram a lightning bolt between the earth and moon And curl the planets I'm pan-Atlantic wit lyrics spannin for galaxies Battle me, mathematically, I'm givin your wisdom a cavity Rapidly flowin, controllin the time Flip over the line, I'm blowin your mind wit just a flow and a rhyme I'm Hogan in his prime, strong and fast You can bomb and blast, c'mon, you'll still be on your a** It's satisfaction guaranteed Wit Fiction like Quentin Tarantin' Kickin your baddest dreams, sh** you haven't seen I have to be perfectly honest You should have an anniversary to acknowledge the way I work the ebonics I verbally vomit on how much n***as try to get us With garbage lyrics, my style delivers it as the Outer Limits I'm like the pyramids cuz every point is precise Now you know me for life Six Pun, Cuban flooded wit ice Chorus [Big Punisher] (Milano) If I ain't home wit my fam (Where you at?) Stash crib, cuttin grams (Where you at?) Hung wit my n***as and we're rollin and controllin, hold that! If I ain't deep in some a** (Where you at?) I'm in the jeep wit the stash (Where you at?) Hung wit my n***as and we're rollin and controllin, baby! [Milano] Yo I camel-clutch mics, a truce gahzuntite Guess I'm allergic when sh** ain't done right You spread disease while the vaccine is what I write Couldn't avoid this, sit tight All aboard ship, on my voy-age Purple Explorers, seven warriors my aura You tied a ? and boredom, Milan bring more than offer High exalted, boned a Lazarus scultptor You penny-weight style While my piece alone around three pounds I had to serve nerds, and throw it down, stuck for a reason Laid up a whole season, pen and pad style Honeymooners like Jack Gleason Blessin the whole reason Until my n***as max out, hold the axe out Whoever front, saw the procedure All you thugs now wit misdemeanors I seen ya'll in clubs, poppin Zima Fake minks wit ninety percent of it beaver Thought you was k**in em? I played the back wit two dime Brazilians Cogniac and ice buckets, puttin a slight chill to them Rock platinum like I sold a million Trapped on my island like Gilligan Really, Manhattan n***as here, you gotta feel em It ain't hard, sent to Parkwest Hall Straight up the Malcom Boulevard Wit no bars, I write scriptures Me on beats is a fatal attraction when I give you the business Caught a throat virus for spittin sick sh** Got n***as wilding like "Who is this?" On this '99 cla**ical edition Chorus