Vinnie Paz - Bleed for Me lyrics

Yo, I ain't even countin' bars man
You know what I'm sayin'?
(yeah) I'm just going! Shit check uh!

Yo, introducin' the illest spic
Zilla rip your heart out quick (Uh, huh)
I put a dart out with Paz
And make the whole world sick (Let's go)
That boom bap
Snatch a rapper with my glue-like grip
I'm the equivalent of Bruce Lee
(Waaah) if he write this
I smack fire out the mic all day
Sinister Groove shit
(Ooh-wops) is cocked and fightin' you on
My cruise ship (Let's go)
Welcome to the planet where
Average niggas'll bruise quick
We can get it raw
Call it usin' Rhythm and Blues Fist (Yea)
See I'mma monster, lock-jaws, pop-fall
(POP! POP! POP)
Rounds in the air, the block know it as black
They tried to say that I was destined to fail
Until I made my city question who
Could bring it as real
No deal, no dice ain't no luxury here
(Uh, huh) instead, it's kill or be killed
(killed) and I ain't writin' a will (Nah)
So despite all the bullshit, nonsense
Setbacks (yea)
I'm 'bout to show the world
The way a victory feel (yea that's right)

Me? I'm stuck on some hood shit
(That's some hood shit)
My cousin clap a nigga quick
Your whole melon get split (split)
One shot, Why waste the whole clip?
(A whole clip?) a wood tip
My flow order niggas out of
Order thinkin' they're the shit (Yea)
Fuck a ounce, grab a brick, break it down
Flood the strip
Watch the law 'cause they always
Tryna see who doin' shit
Question: Why niggas say they
Still affiliate with?
I don't need fake friends when
I'm dealing with shit
You can't trust 'em, fuck 'em
(fuck 'em) , get 'em away quick (yea)
Before they start snitchin'
(snitchin') and get you locked up
Quick (You bitch niggas) i bang a nigga
I ain't the type to drop kick
Rainy days, dark nights I still make a profit
They be really dressin' all black
Like they was gothic
Cry in the river like Justin over your casket
I'm always lookin' ahead
Never dwellin' on bad shit (Uh, huh)
I never hold work Sino make it fast, bitch

This the OK corral
Everybody's hands in the air
(Click-Clack) We fixin' to shut it down
Where the jewels and the paper
At? Never a diplomat
Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town

It's the OK corral
Everybody's hands in the air
(Click-Clack) We fixin' to shut it down
Where the jewels and the paper
At? Never a diplomat
Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run
This town - Come on!

Every single rhyme I write
Make a buildin' collapse
It go from cell to cell
You can feel the synapse matter fact
I let Blac' and Zill' kill 'em with that
Three motherfuckers
Three of the illest in rap
We Treacherous Three
That was the pillar of rap
Then Kool Moe Dee made it guerilla to rap
He went at LL, went at his feelings in fact
And at the same time brothers
Was dealin' with crack killing 'em Softly
Slaine was the villain in that
(Slaine, you my brother)
Kenny Gill, Vinnie real, he still is intact
You analog
I'm digital and I'm feelin' the dat
I've been raw, Tim Dog - Penicillin On Wax
(R-IP) poor Righteous Teacher 'cause I'm
Dealin' with facts
What's the price of reefer when
You dealin' with math
Punchin' a sucker rapper
Maybe I'm guilty for that
He just another rapper
Y'all know my feelings on that

Chauvinistic, misogynistic
In every spot I visit
Bitches get twisted, my G is simplistic
(haha) even fat bitches get crushed
Too 'cause I'm optimistic
Director's chair
Life is like a motion picture (nigga)
The scene from The Godfather
Beat ya like Sunny's sister
Apocalypse Now, Black Hawk Down
Nigga's talk loose now
But they softer than goose downs
I'm payin' no attention
Layin' low like the Benz suspension
Crazily slept on
But still get an honorable mention
Prophetical, last man standin' like
The Book of Eli lost in Italy
I'm trynna to find a pair of felines
Back to the States where the steaks is great
Feelin' the hate
Leavin' 'em bleedin' like
Females menstruate
Death to those who chose to
Throw arrows at the Pharaohs
Incineratin' your block
Douse you with the Tommy Gun barrels
Official Pistol Gang
Bangin' guns like Al-Qaeda - What?!
This the OK corral
Everybody's hands in the air
(Click-Clack) We fixin' to shut it down
Where the jewels and the paper
At? Never a diplomat
Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town

It's the OK corral
Everybody's hands in the air
(Click-Clack) We fixin' to shut it down
Where the jewels and the paper
At? Never a diplomat
Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run
This town - Come on!