Pete Rock, Smif-N-Wessun, Sean Price, Styles P - That's Hard lyrics

Di dread at di control, international
Control all thru di world
Nuh version we martial we nuh partial
We play nuff bwoy
Selections without objection!

Two rudeboys! Tek and Steele
Whattup I love y'all

Styles P!

I ain't tell you that I'm loco brother (yeah)
I keep the Tek and Steele
Like the Cocoa Brovaz
My niggas still Smif-N Wessun to me (MY G)
Hard headed
The God bodies couldn't teach a lesson to me
Ahkis couldn't reach me
Neither could the church boys
I was outside with a gun movin that work boy
(I was outside)
Whattup natty head, bald head, beard men
Some niggas sizzlin us we can't sear men
Fried to a frickaseed, and I know I'm wicked
So I don't wear rosaries or thicker beads
No crosses, no Bible or Qu'ran
Just survival on my mind
With a gun up in my palm
All spiritual nigga, I'm all lyrical
Die and come back, I'm the ghost
I'm all miracles (GHOST)
I told them I could stare at Medusa (I could)
They think that I'm high but I'm really tryin
To stare in the future and shoot ya!
Nigga! Ghost!

G-G-G-'Gon take that shit
Out of somebodysomebody

And now the DA wanna chase
Cause the way I beat the case
Was a slap in the face
And now he lookin' like an asshole
Hotter than tobasco
Try'na stop our cash flow
But I'm cooler than the other
Side of the pillow
They wanna give me years that end with a zero
And it's a trap try'na get rich
You got raps and all types of bullshit
The connect slow, or the money short
Or they wanna play for the shit they bought
Better stop buying into rations
Multiply then divide into fractions
Got opportunities to go global
Heard a click and switched the
Chip in the mobile
Shake the feds off my coattails
Tell the little homie who the
Thief order a motel now that's hard

A lot of wack niggas rappin'
Now and I know why
One cornball pop, so the rest wanna go try
All praises due to Allah, no bow tie
My whole Family stay Stoned, I'm so Sly
Cry now, cry later, no laughin'
Cocaine hills in the crib, so Aspen
No acting, Bokeem Woodbine
Blow caps back and your whole damn team die
(P) slave master, I sell white girl
I don't eat ham motherfucker I might hurl
Sean Price, I got the murder flow
Rap President rule the world, Kurtis Blow
Give a fuck about nobody, I hold shotties
Upstate New York is where I throw bodies
Sean's grimy nigga
Rape you, make you "Say It Again"
Ron Isley nigga now that's hard
Fuckouttahere, P!

Yeah, I remember when the bars is hard
Now rap cats play guitars
Singin songs for broads
(Video vixens) She follow the stars
Say she wanna be a Barbie doll, Nicki Minaj
(What's happenin now?) No viva la rod
When you hear that clappin sound
Won't be no applause
I don't be with bodyguards but my body is God
Body everybody that's in the squad
Bottom line is my sig na ture
You're, miniature, you're a caricature
I don't listen to y'all
Rather listen to Sean
Pete told me FUCK rap and
Get the missiles and bombs
Don't get involved with niggas'
Riffin in songs i don't battle rap
I rat-a tat in middle of war
Stripes and bars cover the scars, denim
With stone wall, chrome 4' cover the palm
And that's hard

"Smif-n Wessun got classic flows"
"GHOST!" "Styles P" "G-Good ol' New York rap"
"Sean Price the best rapper"