CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Buckshot, Sean Price, Joe Budden Freestyle on DJ Clue
Just when you thought it was safe to relax
Buckshot in the spot, push your weave back
Picture me in the broke position
How you want it, you can get it Buckshot wit’ it, hope you dissing
And your magazine got magazines for your faggot team
When you see the red dot that’s that beam
I see a lot of changes around me
Yeah the mill’s could be gone but the change is around me
I’ma get it, crown on my arm fool wit’ it who wit’ it?
Drop jewels wit’ it, now y’all wanna be cool wit’ it
I gave you that ‘cause you gave me this
Buckshot, original MAC, I’m taking ‘em back, back
As the sky darken
The streets cook up the beef and these streets breed the marksmen, peep
Eyes wide open as the god shot focus
Leave ‘em hopeless I’m hoping y’all wanna run up to my spot now
I bucks ‘em down, must get Buck with Down
That’s like Def Jam with no Russell now, picture that
Get ya’ gat, hold ya’ heat
Four three two one get ready to roam the streets
It’s not a game, it’s not the same
Now is not the time for me to talk in vain talk to ya’ man
Nahm saying, [?]
And that’s how it’s cracking now on this side of things, I’m riding with flame
Franklin Avenue riding the same, it’s a kinfolk thing
Original Kimbo king, uh
Put ya’ body in motion shottie is coasting, get rid of a lot of you boasting, now
Relax yourself, ask yourself
Am I the boss or the help, [?], well
Right now, it’s a wrap diss me I won’t diss you back
I’ll put this in your back
Buckshot in the spot, push your weave back
Picture me in the broke position
How you want it, you can get it Buckshot wit’ it, hope you dissing
And your magazine got magazines for your faggot team
When you see the red dot that’s that beam
I see a lot of changes around me
Yeah the mill’s could be gone but the change is around me
I’ma get it, crown on my arm fool wit’ it who wit’ it?
Drop jewels wit’ it, now y’all wanna be cool wit’ it
I gave you that ‘cause you gave me this
Buckshot, original MAC, I’m taking ‘em back, back
As the sky darken
The streets cook up the beef and these streets breed the marksmen, peep
Eyes wide open as the god shot focus
Leave ‘em hopeless I’m hoping y’all wanna run up to my spot now
I bucks ‘em down, must get Buck with Down
That’s like Def Jam with no Russell now, picture that
Get ya’ gat, hold ya’ heat
Four three two one get ready to roam the streets
It’s not a game, it’s not the same
Now is not the time for me to talk in vain talk to ya’ man
Nahm saying, [?]
And that’s how it’s cracking now on this side of things, I’m riding with flame
Franklin Avenue riding the same, it’s a kinfolk thing
Original Kimbo king, uh
Put ya’ body in motion shottie is coasting, get rid of a lot of you boasting, now
Relax yourself, ask yourself
Am I the boss or the help, [?], well
Right now, it’s a wrap diss me I won’t diss you back
I’ll put this in your back
