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Correct Bulworth Lyrics
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Mobb Deep
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Correct Bulworth
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Lyrics:
[prodigy] Aiyyo, wordup dunn Man you know how I feel Gotta be more to it than this, word up *Doing an impression of scarface* This what it's all about dunn? Uh? Eating, drinking, fucking, sucking (can't understand) Whattup, I don't know baby Nah man, it's not, it's not yo word up I'm tellin you right now I know this shit though, aiyyo Disagreeable, foul energy, tryin to Absorb my energy, knowin it's the strength of me Take a few to give me a edge My green light shine bright, kryptonite type Fully operational, my physical cream Put the bottles of smoke down, pick up a magazine Popped it inside the ar-15 Put it aside, round up the regime While you rely on religion, I hold a nine On the mission, to pull fire on your opposition Revelation was the vision of this Crack the heavens, it's time to bring the business, shit My story goes back to them lost pyramids I'm seeing things that you won't believe exists He use a lunar-tick, suspended in time dunn The secondary light got your mind You rock the fatigues, to squab until? Popular? Guns But are you really prepared, for the things to come? [krs-one] Check it out True underground sound from the boogie down Uptown downtown gather round for the showdown, in they faces Calling out these racists, at rolling stone Spin details and other places, krs is the source Fuck these magazine leadin hip-hop off course You'll print about black mayors, black senators Why you ain't got no black editors? Everytime I do an interview in rolling stone They sendin me a writer that look like he's home alone Ignorant, to the culture and the microphone This has got to stop -- your whole spot Is blown sky high, battle why try? My view is bird's eye, scopin with my third eye You don't understand, why you're publically banned Until you recognize the writing skills of a black man Black editor, all of us ain't thuggin Gossiping over who's homosexual Some of us are black intellectuals, up in harlem world You can't get with me, so now in midtown You wanna stop and talk to me? Bitch ass journalist, is this your fake hip-hop publication? Look I'm burnin this [method man] How many didn't want to see it happen Street moves, live from staten, if life is a joke, nobody laughin Hate to see a brother do good through legal action So you sabotage and throw a def in the squad Fo'-fo's blastin, keep the po-po flashin These dark soul assassins, jake's hate the gods with a passion So I keep it movin in an orderly, fashion Pedal to the floor -- peep the jim crow law, mind control theory Y'all niggaz don't hear me, generation next Droppin fast who's next, next to get wet By the reign of the tech-knowledgy, follow me Open up wide now, swallow me, every calorie Is reality the truth, the whole truth and Nothin but the truth, taste is the proof These niggaz want the juice, and in the crossfire Be the youth, who didn't learn to duck when they shoot [kam] What kind of party is this, it's that political kind Where america's best, most hypocritical minds Try they hands at keepin y'all deaf dumb and blind And for the right dollar sign, do white collar crime Behind suits, and clean shaves I confuse em and use em as tools and slaves Because my schools is graves and jobs is plantations -- I robs the damn nation So I can live in luxury, you fucks with me You marryin the dirt and i'ma throw in the tux for free I tell the people what they wanna hear I make em laugh and cheer, and then they re-elect me every year So when the coast is clear, I stop duckin And start back doin dope, cussin and fuckin I kiss the babies, shake hands, wave and smile for flicks That's my style, my pol-i-tricks Triple-six convicts, lyin is automatic In the government, republican or democratic Fuck freedom, justice and equality Nigga just accept my apology and suck this trick-knowledgy
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