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    Angie Martinez / Lyrics

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    "Live From The Streets" Lyrics

    Angie Martinez feat. Beanie Sigel, Jadakiss, Styles P and Kool G Rap

    Album:
    Genre:Hip-Hop, Rap
    Duration:00:04:16
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    Lyrics

    [unknown singer]
    Ohhhhh.. senorita.. when the evening sun go down
    I come to.. serenade you.. from another part, of town
    [car tires peeling out]

    [Angie Martinez]
    Let's get it on it's Angie Mar' reportin live from the streets
    From Y.O. to Philly and Harlem to Q.B.
    When it drops it's game over, you'll see
    Introducing, Jadakiss and Styles P, where you at?

    [The L.O.X.]
    Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
    You know we still in the hood dog, in front of the store
    With the work across the street and the gun in the stall
    Soon as somethin happen niggaz wanna run to the law
    You know the code of the streets, never run to the law
    That's why I can't even run 'less I run with a four
    or I walk with a three, come and talk to 'em P
    You can catch me down bottom with a bird and a glock
    On the block makin money where they murder a lot
    Or you can catch me up top shootin dice for a yard
    I'm talkin six digits, niggaz bet the house or the car
    You can catch me hittin the spliff, sick in the pit
    On the fiend like I'm missin my shit, they think I'm crazy
    Catch me hittin your lady in my Mercedes
    Bird on your baby, fuck you I'm keepin it gravy
    L.O.X. hold the hammers
    like we waitin for screws
    With Angie Mar' BLOWIN MOTHERFUCKERS OUT OF THEY SHOES, WHAT?

    [Angie Martinez]
    Comin live from the streets where some died tryin to eat
    From Y.O. to Philly, from Harlem to Q.B.
    And when it drops, game over, you'll see
    Introducin, Beanie Sigel, tell me how you livin?

    [Beanie Sigel]
    Aiyyo, I've been kickin murder - since Adidas with thick strings
    T.I. sweatsuits, Pumas with thick chains
    Four finger rings, black belts with brass names
    I was spittin flames since niggaz was pitchin change
    I'm a hard knock kiddo, always played the middle
    Threw flacks in the crack game, getchu if I can getchu
    Since a buck, played the highway, dodgin the troop boys
    Jumpin in and out of Coupes, wavin for Duke boys
    Always chased a penny, copped quarter waters
    Tried to make a dollar chased my pop's boss daughters
    Tryin to make my name, global, in all four corners
    Philly baller, gamin in all four quarters
    Never worked, never will - all my hoes buy my clothes
    I can't go broke, never will - all my bros buy my O's
    I'm the best thing that linked up with New York since Sprewell
    I murder, nuttin further - fill in the details

    [Brett]
    I'm here, it's over, fuck how y'all feel
    When I drop, y'all gon' realize it's all real
    Bein left for dead, tied up, smoke 'til I was dried up
    So high up, seem like the sky ducked, high what?
    Life was rough, but now it's nothin to hide
    Used to click and be quick to put this gun to yo' side
    Be like, "That chain nice - I like that pal.
    Matter fact {*click click*} I'd like that now."
    You've got game? Call the name, just spell the name right
    Brett, one of the best rappers ever to touch a mic
    It's prophecized I'd write, spit'scriptures mind blowin
    'til my coffin top close and heaven skies open
    Fear no man's my slogan, I hope y'all believe
    I'm just like you, fear nuttin human that bleeds
    My mind breed two movies, six ab-lums, a hundred poems
    Thirty R&B joints, I'm beyond the norm, y'all just mad
    I'm just glad, got my time to shine
    Y'all the type to hit three hundred bars and run out of rhymes

    [Angie Martinez]
    Brett, from my ByStorm family, with Angie
    Come live from the streets, from Harlem to Q.B.
    And when it drops, game over, you'll see
    Introducin, finally, the legendary Kool G.

    [Kool G. Rap]
    It's B.G.S. kid so what you facin? Caps racin
    Decapitation twenty buck-fifties and lacerations
    Guerilla fam' camouflaged out in the grass waitin
    to blass your nation slash like Jason and bash your face in
    We ass lacin top bodies and half in the basement
    Our style, cast you so bad you'll need plastic replacement
    When gats is raised in, fascination blastin and blazin
    Evacuation for your whole staff there's gas in the tank and
    Gets back abrasions from cap grazin, defy gravitation
    Pull my shit back squeeze bust it like masturbation
    Hold fort, hold the blow torch, leave your soul scorched
    with no remorse, the state of New York, get your shit caught
    When niggaz hawk, let the fifth talk
    So tell me who's the next man to flip?
    I stop the beef shit, with rubber handled grips
    Your candle get lit, guerilla shit feed us banana clips
    The hammers hit, anything in our range we dismantle it

    [Angie Martinez]
    Like to say thanks to my street correspondents, for gettin on this
    Comin live and direct with no nonsense
    Sorry folks for hurtin y'all, the previous has been brought to you
    by "Up Close and Personal"
    This song was submitted on February 5th, 2010 and last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC.
    Written by Angie Martinez, Charles Bernstein, Dwight Grant, Jason Phillips, Jason T Phillips, Nathaniel Thomas Wilson.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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