Make `em Pay lyrics

Artist  : Gangstarr 
Song : Make `em Pay



 Send "Make `em Pay" Ringtone to your Cell 

 

featuring Krumb Snatcha

[Guru]
First
and foremost some rappers are sweet like
fructose
When I cock back these lyrics y'all
punks best be ghost
I be the seven twenty one
eighteen twenty one
The illest one I'm almost
doper than anyone
Straight out the late nights
of Bed Stuy
Steppin up y'all put your weapons
up I make heads fly
You're artificial like
saccarhin
You're crazy fake it's more than
skills you be lackin in
Concepts you bite,
cause your identity ain't tight
Tryin to be
somethin you're not, like pullin a knife at a
gunfight
I'm troopin on night air like flight
number 106
and gettin all up in your fuckin
mix
You get me upset, and I got you
uptight
cause my committee's in your city
tonight, AIGHT?
We got seventeen million of us
plus, two million Indians
That makes 19 mil,
lightin shit up like Wild Bill
I be the,
supreme father plus the ill kid with drama
My
karma, creates the teflon to pierce your body
armor
And make sure you check the shit before
you walk to me, or talk to me
Steppin to me
improperly, you just may catch the weaponry
My
specialty is tearin tracks out the frame
You
know my fuckin name, I rule all game
I'm
universal on all planes, what's your
claim?

[Guru]
Yo, I be your highness,
in slickness, you chumps bear
witness
Tremendous tropper, verbal nigga witht
he fitness
Drop you for your spot with the
blazer then I blast ya
Slice precise like
?fenny hanas? when I come to bring the
dramas
Styles so swift, that you can't peep
the God
as your lyrics get buried, six feet
deep in my backyard
I laugh hard, while your
mental I run through mazes
Dark stages of
terror to shatter your dressing room
mirror
Your whole error gets crushed, your
whole show gets bumrushed
Too many dumb punks,
want to enter this rap scene
Kickin Willie
Bobo, but need to be slapped clean
into
oblivion, the true champion always rises
I
bring surprises to the chief plus their
advisers
Size me up, and you will find
nothing's larger
Catch more wreck on your
dome, than a deranged fuckin barber
So what
you made some dough, you best keep on
scramblin
All your vanity, is instantly
crushed, when I start handlin
Demandin that
you pay, for your weak rhyme display
Coast to
coast, I break the fakes everyday

[Krumb
Snatcha]
I see myself as the black Rap
Messiah
Colossal spreadin my gospel through
electrical wires
Spit fire through speech, so
I can reach each and every
Tom Dick and Jerry
slippin like petroleum jelly
Too busy in the
limelight, can't rhyme tight
I got divine
right to bring y'all to light
Somethin ain't
right, to be an MC, you gotta thug
Or to thug
you gotta be an MC, this shit is bugged
Show
love but few; deal with crew and crew only
And
think universal like Sony
Phony pounds and fake
hugs is usually avoided
Give a fuck like Pizza
Hut I got to stay Noyd-ed
Cause that same
nigga you trust, could be that same cat
behind
that gat that bust, quiet ya, with the
silencer
Keep it hush, ashes to dust, then
dust to ashes
Nowadays it's who pull out the
fastest, imagine this
rap shit without this
gat shit, or the phony cat
in black talkin
bout how much his Mac spit
But this year,
GangStarr got changes bein made
No wack shit
bein played no fake macks gettin paid
No
Versace MC's, with a mouth full of Mo'
Soundin
like a hoe spittin that old-fashioned show
flow
I bombshell that pastel Chanel rap
through a Maxwell
Ever since young Krumb, was
taught to rap well
Goin deep, process of
thought, when my eyes closes
Awaken with
interpretive robe and sandals like
Moses
Travellin high sands and Eastern lands
for the answers
Ignorance is spreadin through
the streets like it was cancer
Too many
drinkin not thinkin, when behind that
trigger
A 38 escalate the murder rate, for us
niggaz
it's like, microphone roulette cause
nowadays MC's is gettin wet
over someone
else's fake gangsta rep