Slam Pit lyrics

Artist  : The Beatnuts 
Song : Slam Pit



 Send "Slam Pit" Ringtone to your Cell 

 

featuring Common, Cuban Link

[Cuban
Link]
"I'm hard to kill, for real, nigga guard
your grill" --> Cuban Link
Yo, yo, Yo flipmode
is how this nigga roll
Finger on the trigger
low, quick to lick a shot for that bigger pot of
gold
Lock and load, my heavy metal rock and
rolls
If you gotta go you gotta go, that's
part of the show
My heart is cold like a
Nautica nailin niggaz like carpenters
Stalkin
the hardest squadrons, spark em from New York to
Arkansas
Watchin the projects is how I got my
logic
Economics is pickin pockets then we
split the profit
The only shit I pop is what
my glock spit
Watch for the cops since we
spark the chocolate
Cause the blocks are
hotter than the fuckin tropics
In topless
bars, college girls with no bras
My whole
squad got blow jobs smokin Godfather
cigars
Live large like Scarface, parlayin to
far place
No car chasin, she's watchin all the
stars in space
Safe and sound in my playground
with my tre pound
Got eighty rounds just in
case clowns wanna play around
I lay it down
for them non-believers
Them non-achievin
niggaz that wanna be leaders but can never beat
us
Y'all better greet us if you ever see us
(word up)
TS, Beatnuts, double up, but grab
your motherfuckin heaters

Sample
interlude
--Slammin MC's on cement--
--The
beats, the nuts--
--Got you froze like gun
point--

[JuJu]
--It's the hard-little
pistol packin--
It's the control freak, leave
you with a whole in your cheek
Worst attitude
in rap, Ju stay in the streets
I gotta eat,
the only thing I'm playin is keeps
Your beats
cost a lotta money but they sound real
cheap
You sound weak, anemic, like you get no
sleep
Fuckin with me, you outta your mind? get
outta your Jeep
Ya know I'm gonna beat you till
the police come
And tell niggaz who the fuck I
got that Roly from

[Psycho
Les]
--Psycho Les--
Yeah, ugh, what...Jump
out the Rover and let you know its over
And
grab you with a crowbar and snap you in a
coma
Drug you with my music son, you'll never
sober
While your chicks on my --boing-- on a
leather soafer
Chillin there, iced out
billionaire
In war clothes blastin as I blast
led through your Versace wardrobe
What!
Motherfuckers

--Slammin MC's on
cement--
Ugh

[Common]
--Common
Sense, Common's tellin ya--
Picture a king,
with heater, holy book, and big rings
Real
nigga doin big things interpreting dreams
Off
the Jim Bean, ain't shit sweet for sixteens
My
gods got the block sewn to the inseam
I'm on
the other side, trying to get green
So I fash
and trash that ass at least a day
Warrin with
self I battle, the Middle Eastern way
Bring
heat like the months, that's east of
May
Casket in the road and saw a new school
that knows the old
This memory I hold the
scroll, my flow is a Road...Less Traveled
You
rock, but been through less gravel
My mystique
suggest battle and what have you
Rip a nigga
from New York to west coast, Chicago
Don't
give a fuck where he from he'll get beat like a
drum
Till this rap goes numb, seekin the hot
Medusa from circulation
I strangle this string
music, and suffocate a drum
Wanted to be a star
till I seen I was the sun/son
got my weight up
like Pun
Improvise to get ass, emphasize to
get passed
Fuck a mic check, I bring my flow
in cash

Talkin to fade