The Hillside Scramblers - Take It To The Top lyrics

(feat. Desert Eagle, INF-Black, King Just, Letha Face) [Intro: U-God] Time to strongarm this sh** This how we gon' do, dead arm this man, knowhatimsayin? From the root to the fruit, twenty-one gun salute this sh** Uptown, Downtown, New York, down South L.A., that's how we gon' do it, Hillside, n***a, all day [Desert Eagle] Meet me at the pop off, INF on the block Hillside, get your rocks off, take it to the top Got the whole world hatin', can't take me in the drop Can't take it how I'm cakin' it, catch me in the spot And you might see a veteran stance, but you'll never see a veteran dance But you might catch me bangin' in the twat She ain't got G, she ain't untangling my knot In my baratone throw, here, bangin' out the box Clubs to cell blocks, here tangle with an ox Got gorillas in the mist, all my n***as arm with lead So we gotta watch the k**as on the strip You already had a chance, try to k** us with a clip One slug hit my lung, you could feel it when I spit I'm a Hillside Scrambler, the widest in the click Watch Ugodz-Illa set fire to this sh** [U-God] As the music gets louder at the top of the hour It's time to devour, cuz I'm hungry for power I rise the towers, I'll retire your mans And it never backfires when I devise a plan I sprinkle money showers, I'm suppose to think big All you coward a** n***as don't want me to live Up the ladder of success, I won't forgive Ya'll tight a** n***as, ya'll greedy a** pigs, n***a Last bids, better tie it, the CREAM I got here, hard work, plus dreams of steam I'm a mean machine, eat Lean Cuisine Similar to Steve McQueen on silver screen I'm suppose to redeem, see my Sprewells twirl I want a penthouse view, plus windows to the world And, diamonds and pearls, and hardwood floors An Italian Job, catch a big money score At the tip of the iceberg, top of the mountain n***a, sky's the limit, when money I'm countin' I want water and waves sprayin' out my fountain n***a, I can it with him, or I can do without him, b**h [Chorus: all (INF-Black)] Take it to the top (we ball 'til we fall, let the champagne pop, n***a) Take it to the top (every hood, every block, know we got this sh** locked, n***a) Take it to the top (Uptown n***as, Downtown n***as, get it poppin', baby) Take it to the top (n***as get your front on, b**hes get your stunt on, come On!) [INF-Black] It's the silent mover, an*lyst, sharpshooter I parachute in your hood, ride off on a scooter Smookin' buddha with two nines, I'm still rockin' Puma's Heard it first on grapevine, my rhymes ill manauvers On jake, we call 'em one time, escape the street crime Drapped in black hoodies, Timbs and gold shines Poppin' that champagne, get high like jet lines Glide and break spines, make ya'll respect mine I grind from nine to five, rely on the iron nine INF-Black, I'm doin' fine, so far from hittin' prime Rippin' right through your flesh, these b**hes they wantin' s** I take you to the top, and cut you off at the neck Oh you the boss? You ain't a threat Who cares of what you did, who cares of what you rep I sidestep ya'll f*ggots, leave your food in a mess Got ladies that play it cool and keep the tool in they dress Ride with me... Hillside, uh [Chorus] [King Just] I've done started at the bottom, I deserve the tippy Ya'll n***as got some nerve to try to forget me Man, is he, or isn't he, the greatest who done it? With sixteen bars that run concurrent Who wanna serve the warrant? Ya'll ain't got nothin' for him How you gonna score points, on the after Mike Jordan Won't happen, stay scrappin', I can see what you lackin' Hillside, rep Staten, see my wolves, still packin' I ain't actin', unless they sold out the box office Or Spike Lee steps to me with better offers Tune in, play it again, Q, f** me? f** you That's how I'm supposed to do We'll go eye for eye, we'll go tooth for tooth Who the f** wastes they money to put you in the booth? You ain't the truth, you more like an L-I-E Let it be known, I meet you at the T-O-P, n***a [Letha Face] Enter the stage, I hell raise With the force of double barrel 12 gauge Pump shotgun, dump hot ones Fireballs flamin' out the mouth, lockin' your lungs Let me explain what the pain is about Oscar the Grouch, out the trashcan, Dead Presidents style Twin pounds in my hands, write my measurements down, clown I bang in the name of my son, exchange flames til I'm done The clip's empty and I'm the remainding one Anger from the Slums, soak up liquor with a sponge liver Your flow of blood is leakin' worse than a running river Silver spines worse than Cabin Fever Play the receiver, of a stabbing meat clever in your abdomen All that from steppin' on my sneaker The beat box jam, causes me to murder you with my intellect k** for respect, plus work hard for the power Then I carve Loose Links inside the heart of a coward [Chorus]