Shyheim, Method Man, Infamous Bluesteele - Am I My Brother's Keeper? lyrics

Eh yo, eh yo, eh yo yo, yo, yo
My son want his back, fuck that
(my shine is beautiful)
It's time right now, you know?
It's like we ain't fuckin with no
Lame ass niggas no more
Bein bullshit by bullshit niggas (for real)

Am I my brother's keeper?
Theres no need to ask, I'm the creeper
Million dollar man, Johnny Cash
Puff the reefer
Sometimes mix it with the hash
Hard to keep up, 100 yards dash
Beat your feet up
Jumpin Jack Flash on a muthafuckas ass
Caught 'em in the weed stash
Tryin to tap the bag
Now he suspect, read him his rights
It's only right
I never, never, never in my long legged life
Ever bite like shark niggas, got an appetite
For destruction, lusting for dough
It's disgusting
Disgraceful, end of disscusion, this tasteful
Like cyanide erase you, pull up
Let me take two
Come all you faithful, Meth and Shyheim
Tommy Hilfiger
That I'm a Johnny 'field nigga
Till I die, SINY testify
Girlfriend sweating my game, killing my high

I'm a 100 proof, like Smirnoff blue label
I'm so wild
Got housearrest bracelets on each ankle
I break you
Something fatal and make New Jersey trade you
You don't got game
So niggas don't playa hate you
Come back to Brooklyn, the ya G's gone
Chase you up, batted in dun, dun
Nike won't endorse you so you rock an And-1
I pull out the M-1 and hit you handsome
Cuz you forcin it
You can hang it up like an ornament
End your actin career
Put you back in street tournaments
Run for your life, like you doing suicides
When even use your scrub ass, Live '9-9

Am I my brother's keeper?
There's no need to ask
I ride for my brothers
Give me the gun and the mask
We be in the bushes like The Down Low stash
Pop up like a warrant, let off on that ass

Yo y'all could catch the player
Inf' way beyond calm
Sharp and on bomb chron, rockin my Sean John
Copin the bomb chron from Sharon on the quan
Got me chinky-eyed like a Hong Kong don
Fire arm palm, cock back caution
Alarm for the chumps
Boy what you think you gon'
Palm with my charms
Better pay attention to the harm in
My palm and it's fully-loaded
If I said it, could he hold it?
But once he seen the gun I said, "son
Look he bolted"
Son, look he noted, the Berrettas'll shever
But he was clever he stopped screwing and he
Blew in his vendettas
His crew was in to leathers, Avirex and guns
Some of them was smart but I
Could say the rest was dumb
So I played the vest for dumb
And saved the checks for dumb
Cuz they hard head niggas who
Graze and steadily come
To be leakin something
You could care for speakin
Frontin bout shit they stick
Instead of zip they lip
They was young niggas
You know the young dumb niggas
Who don't care how they get it as it come
Nigga fades

Old school party music playing and fades
Hey, hey are you that little guy makin
All that big noise?
Sounds of mad ass dog and man screaming