The Emba**y - I'm Good Play Your Part lyrics

[Intro: Shyheim] This n***a, sh**, yeah, I can't even walk to the corner store Without a n***a askin' me, like damn When you come in son, yo, when you go in, man? When you goin' to do another movie, what's up with an album Damn, son, you ain't got a welcome, me nothing? Hah.. [Chorus 2X: Kanive] I'm good, play your part Those hookers, those hoes, and my job Those hustlers, those papes, and my squad My neck, my wrist, my car [Shyheim] I know it urks, you, I come through In an upside down Y, surrounded by a circle Bottom Up on the windshield Big mac-11 with them dumb dumbs, stupid, under the chinchill' n***as better ch-chill, sh**'s still real With the ice pick, the n***as grills, give 'em fish scales In Fishsk**, where the fish k** I'm like a far ring temtrum, Shyheim, it's real Flip your whips to squeal, you will get k**ed So basically n***a, keep your lips sealed Put the minute in the pennant, call me Mr. Quick Bill They hit me with a sentence, but your n***a spit jail I ran and I ran, with them bounties on my tail Drinkin' hot water, eatin' sh**, that's stale And still, Flex keep our single spinnin' like windmills And a n***a fresh outta jail [Chorus 2X] [Kanive] Catch Kanive, and in the wide body, pullin' a sled Still in the streets, duck and dodgin' the feds Still got the trey deuce, strapped to the lead How come the yellow bodies looked like scrambled eggs Get your baby, take your cheese and your bread I know he slow in the head, this is what I just said He hearin' things, the blood is sunny side up When the homey's ride up, with them chromey magnums, yeah Swallow your pride, and cough up the product Then I'm back around the block, what up blood What up cuz, yeah, my pressure is buildin' And the headphones are fire without a Lox reunion Keep the streets like checks, n***a, pay your communion Look, I'm going back from which I came I'm like King David's sword on the black smith lake Cherry red, seven sixty, me shine ya dame [Chorus 2X] [Imf Blue] I'm good, compared to all these broke liars Who never gonna fire, like a broke a** lighter I blow right by ya with a hoe like Mya In a big body Benz with all white tires Brolic bracelets that cause arthritis Can't even open the door, got sores on my right wrist Pores cuz I might just be forced to use my left Hop it, don't pocket, and cruise my sects I'm here now, so you where the problem at I know where ya momma at, I know where to rob you at The chip of my gun, get thrown where the coffin' I'm blowin' that concious back, on with that monster mack Blaow, and when that sh** startin' squeezin' You be right there bleedin', in them Nike air's leanin' Sirens screamin', when I move from the scripts Yo, Police and Blue did it, b**h, hit it, ditch [Chorus 2X] [Outro: Shyheim] Yeah, that was good n***a Don't f**in' worry about me, n***a Do that sh**, nah, I'm ight, man, come on man