Coast, Da Circle - Hardcore Sound lyrics

Yo sniper call on a rampage
Your shots weak block that heat
With a lamp shade light bulb the bright idea
That your camp made it's dark thinking
Crystal Lake get your camp slayed
Okay, my bars are so prolific
A heavyweight Olympic pro can't lift it
I rhyme like twin witches, a nigga too wicked
I'm real close to blowing up like a wick is
I flip lids like a kettle blowing steam
Flowing scheme is vice tight like a semi?
So going green with promos
So it seems you logo's a no
Go like Po-Po on the scene
I'm loco for the green
They no jokes on the team
Copping Cola in your sleep
Pitching coke in your dreams
Niggas broke and it stings so
They fabricate our lifestyle
Rhymes ever present
Never question what I write now

Ayo I bring a few pounds with me
We from the city of New York, sound gritty
That boom bap bring it back to the true sound
You can talk all you want but you clowns

Screw that
Slim and Fatz better than new cats
The new rap, the boom bap they can't do that
They recipe got a major discrepancy
Talking money
Hoes and weaponry like it's they pedigree
Dress code say estrogen?
Dunce cap trap rap with crack baby chemistry
My specialty's aroma therapy
When I smell bullshit I blow
The whistle like a referee
Niggas talk pimp shit
That's what they all say
Suppose to make a whore cum
They make a whore stay
She come to my crib, stopped at the doorway
Not pot for big pop
She give me top in the hallway
You clique vagina, looking like four play
Or dyke intercourse, eat you pussies all day
My pop's a preacher and D's a sinner
I snatch the bitch you love and
Throw a trash bag in her

In the street put the hardcore down
In the streets we love that hardcore sound
Slim: In the street put the hardcore down
In the streets we love the hardcore sound

Count your blessings but the stupid
Never learn the lesson
They hustle backwards
Never showing true progression
Behind the scenes setting up the time right
But the fact remains the same
From backstage to the limelight
I got a dog in a fight that'll bite your face
Putting flavor in your ear and
You like the taste your life's a waste
Talking bout your feeble plans
I need those grands to bet on
Philly like an Eagles fan
Fat Guinea in the market up on? the Ave
Gravy stain on my shirt
Bout to pop this slab
Hop out, wopped out, blue track suit
Unzip and hairy chest, fat dude
Fly forever, my mother said I'm gorgeous
My whore's flawless, yours look like horses
Brood in the face make me nauseous
They ain't wanna let me in
Kicked the doors in