Lord Finesse, Armageddon, Fat Joe - Rules We Live By lyrics

What what yeah diggin' In The Crates
Terror Squad we the best at this
Everybody stealin our style
Stealin our flows stealin our beats
Feedin off of us
All these fake rappers in the rap game
So-called rappers what
Yo, real niggas use what they
Pull out, hold up, start a shoot out
Black out, cool out, then they back out
Daily routine, stompin fiends in they spleen
No shorts ill like Chinatown gangsters
Extort the sea port

Aluminum-crush a coco
Rockin stolen gold of Africa
Ill, dressed to kill, a Navy massacre
United Nations-sized slinky Benz
Lookin like ambassadors
King off a roundtable, Glock 9 as calibers
Kidnap a senator, free the Rikers Islanders
Tell a Sicilian he got nigga in his blood
No jive terror Squad possessed by the souls
Of dead Comanche tribes
Scalp em, scrape em and rape em
Repossess Plymouth Rock
Mnage trois with gogo bitches twice
To split on my cock fire spark the hydro
Burn a bush without the pyro
Blessed be the only saint I
Know exist in the Bible
What if God was one of us
Downin mo' liqor and dust
A stranger sellin drugs duckin TNT bust
Comin through like an army of
Nigga rocker gorilla men
Terror Squad legacy live the next millennium
Iron curtain-styled tanks
Gruesome shit that make mother faint
That ain't no color paint
New York electrocute, MississippI don't shoot
Tie his neck to a maple, hang him
Strange fruit

I be the all eye seeing
(no doubt) supreme being
Nigga geein, playin celo, rollin demons
Forever schemin, I make it hot like Phoenix
A street genius, never thinks with his penis
I be the meanest, authentic, afrocentric
In it to win it, I don't talk it
I represent it the sky's the limit
From the beginning to the ending
Can't knock the hustle especially when
The next man's winnin
If money makes the world go
Round I have it spinnin
Chillin in linen, keepin it real
No pretendin
Never-endin, mind-bendin, stay aimin
I don't player hate
I simply make others just quit playin
Know what I'm sayin, I'm out to get stacks
I hit chicks with the dick that
Make dykes wanna switch back
Can you dig that, you got game, money, lounge
I pull bitches like cars
(How's that?) No money down

You better slide or catch this homicide
Ain't no match for Joey Crack
I'm blowin backs out the other side
Brothers died and mothers cried at wakes
These are the breaks
Kurtis-Blow your head off like jake
So take heed and read between the lines
Ain't no geein mines
Player haters never wanna see me shine
Up in the Range or in the Lex Coupe
Rockin a fresh suit with dress shoes
On my way to let's booze
Let's choose what life you rather live
On the streets stabbin kids or livin
Mad sweet in lavish cribs
Fix marriages for my kids
Six carats on my whiz
Exotic talkin parrots on my wrist
It ain't shit but sex, money and drugs
True thugs bust slugs and
Pack bodies and bust
What the fuck, Joey Crack twist your cap back
Leave your heart rate flat
Once Terror Squad attacks