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Correct Vio-lence Lyrics
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Ill Bill
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Correct Vio-lence
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What up Skizz? [Verse 1: Lil' Fame] I'm from where the murderers ride If you heard that I died you probably vision me shot up And laying on the stretcher Cause I ain't the nigga that die from high blood pressure My demise in the midst of a crime go fresher Look at his eyes he's ready to die, Lord bless him It is what it’s gonna be, ain't much that worry me Can’t care whether is 20 of us or one of me Gun boys ride with us, niggas still get yapped Pistol whiped on all monitors, you know what time it is Low nigga run up, squeeze a couple shots in your shirt Touch your best out to see if it work (Brang! Brang!) My niggas get high, get drunk, go ape Whoop you out for about 20 minutes straight then we rotate Straight put the beats on em, no brakes Since way back in the days, nigga's name hold weight And we still active, still mashin' Still inspiring, still shining, still firing [Hook: Lil' Fame] Violence is a universal language Nah nigga you done pick the wrong nigga to bang with (Brang-brang!) We murder ya BK nigga get down, the dirtiest, we bang We give 'em the whole thang! [Verse 1: Ill Bill] I'm from where the murderers ride If you heard that I died You probably picture a hollow bursting out of a nine And splattered me when it popped, jerked me out of my prime My fam'll be mad of God, cursing out of the sky If violence begets violence and death rules everything around me Dreams are really nightmares, in King’s County And even though my daughter was born here Slaughter and war go on here You'll get your fucking wig blown off here Let's put the mirror to the violence, an electrify spirit That defines visionary riots, military science, dignitary silence Ambassadors are assassinated From the war-room to the block assassinations are created Murders are premeditated and orchestrated by a symphony conductor Sort of when sawed-offs are spraying The rhythm of the gun shots is like a song is playing Speaking in the same tongue to God like to talk to Satan [Hook] [Verse 3: Shabazz The Disciple] I'm from where the murderers ride If you heard that I died You’d probably picture me slumped over the wheel in my ride Drugs planted in the trunk, being accused of a crime Orchestrated by COINTELPRO the FBI ? all on the dashboard, cause my spirits to fly Wanna see me scalpel ride?? filled with formaldehyde Police the modern day romans, stolen profits with nines Like the prophets in black, leaders of what they prophesized Hood Christ crucified, two G’s on my side My peter’s heater a sly, cause my Judas demise I pray I look my angel of death right in his eyes You coming with me motherfucker, finish this beef in the sky These last earth memories, the sight was frightening Hear thunder when the hood Christ, striked the lightning Ain’t no fuckin hail Mary’s, is hail of slugs Brain dead on your deathbed, family pull the plug [Hook]
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