Shyheim - Re-Up lyrics

Feat. Prodical, Two On Da Road «Intro--Prodical» Yo son I know what time it is Yo tell em, 12, huh? (Yo hold the f** up) Yo Shyheim Yo tell me it's on (I'ma punch n***as in the face) Hold that, hold that down son (I got this, I got this) Word up, we got this (f** that n***a, man) +sh** Iz Real+, all you rats on both coasts Brooklyn, Shaolin The block is hot, straight up (p**y n***a!) (Read the rims) «Prodical» '87, drug, never change their game We regin terror, projects slang to ring up in the Beakle's leather Plaque for the cheddar, shots out the face of the Beretta Through the corner store that lady and kid, they caught it raw Smokin' leaf poor, make me wanna crack that n***a's jaw Eatin' with the poor, tryin' to live life for what it's for Twelve years later, caught me on tour Two on Da Road Two on the track, two with the plaques, two with the gats Iced out cats, better think twice before you rap Up in your b**h back, only a snitch get that f** the chit-chat, click-click-clack, through your Adam's app' Brook-nam grace and charm, remain calm In these big streets we struggle just to make ends meet Pigs with heat, livin' out the Devil's deceit See I'm a rebel plus my level's complete b**hes say I'm sort of unique You can catch me as a Playboy sheets Solid steel meet, I keep it real with the 'nique «Shyheim» f** a fair fight, come out my corner with a knife Y'all big elephant n***as beware of us little mice You know that we like that cheddar, to make our life better Every colour, low sweater, drop-top Benz With the AMG letters, floatin' like feathers Does it get any better? (Uh-uh, uh-uh) Never, no Cuz I write the rhymes, the rhymes I write be bumpin' Rhyme architects that be brutal on production My brick house, you can't blow me down My thug drug music, smoked out ya town Radio Shyheim, you can't choke me out Cuz where the f** I'm from, we moke popo out «Chorus--12 O'Clock» sh** is crazy real in the field Watch n***a blood get spilled over $5 bills, n***a And major drug deals on the real Watch a n***a get mils, and his b**h get him k**ed «12 O'Clock» Yo, P let's get this dough quick, sh** on the wrist Platinum bracelets, see his Range's the whip Summer time, comin' quick you got eighty-five percent n***a talk that slick and get his brain blown to bits Throw you in pits and n***a lock like pits Got my whole f**in click, n***a, handlin' fifths They blastin' and sh**, I'm after that kid Who rock that gla** Benz, n***a throw it in his wig Kidnap his kid, throw his brain in the fridge Slappy and pig, n***a, place where I live A n***a lookin' jig and I run up in ya crib Who the f** murdered BIG? whoever did, do a bid And let his daughter drop a fridge on his Move like the wind to Brooklyn Bridge, straight to my crib «Chorus x3 «Outro--12 O'Clock» Close the mothaf**in' door, what? Got my n***a R'son on this track 12 O'Clock on this track Prodigal Sunn on this track Got my n***a Shyheim the ManChild Definitely Brooklyn Zu Rewind that sh**, n***a!