Shyheim, Superb - Crime Story lyrics

Yo yo, yo, yo, yo (Crime Story, the title, I
Gotta get it however, whenever)
All my niggas know
(whoever, wherever) They live the streets
Never go down! Never go down!
(Follow me up one time like my man Poppy Da
You know?) i'm wit you son! I'm wit you!

Time for some action, it was June 1st
Me and my Co' we ran up on a check-casher
On Tonka's and raw, I told her
"Tell it on that
Funny with the money 'cause
The money ain't yours
We got twenty hostages
I'm ready to die for this!"
Squig said, "She moving too slow
I'm ready to pop this bitch!"
Then he shot the bitch and
We had to move quick
Grab the cash money and foodstamps
And jetted towards the whip
Jump started the vehicle
Drove a block or two looked in the rearview
Noticed the boys in blue
Then I bust a u turn
You could smell the rubber burn
I dusted 'em like a wet bag of sherms (AHHH)
Went Uptown
Slowed down and made a left at the light
Started flowing, unboared, then she lept
(stop! stop! stop)
Up in front of 27th warrant
We ran up in the building
Bid with two duffel bags but at
Least I had it big (We came off)
Ran up in the crib, shut the door
The sweat started pouring
That's when I heard the sirens roarin
(Yo, fuck the sirens, son we came off
We blastin
Any nigga come in here we comin through
Ah like)

We do the same shit in my projects
Loungin, listenin to Flex
Just thinkin of crime
In the hard times, niggas I know sell dimes
Some used to snort dimes and do robberies

"Come out with your hands up!
We have you surrounded!"
Heard it over boom-horn, one officer shouted
I said, "This is it son
Is you 'bout it? See you in Hell!"
Looked my man in the eyes
We started bustin off shells
Goin all out, backin the ATF down, 52 days
They Nicorette style
They got the sharpshooters out
On the project roof
It's 12 o'clock noon, the old lady yelled
"Don't shoot!"
Then I heard a shot, my heart stopped
Then my man dropped, I fucked with the Glock
(Yo, what the fuck?) And got
Timed by four cops
They cuffed me up, fucked me up
Brought me to the precinct
Ain't feedin me all weekend
All I was doin was thinkin i blew trial
(Damn) and they threw the book at
Me and I'm still readin
You could hear the stories over
And over in the hood got to live to regret
If I could take it back I would
We planned to be like this, we both dead
I hung it up cuz I couldn't hold my head
(Yo, these streets is terrible son)


We do the same shit in my projects
Loungin, listenin to Flex
Just thinkin of crime
In the hard times, niggas I know sell dimes
Some used to snort dimes
And do stick-ups dunn!

For real, without that we all be starvin
Crime, without that we all be starvin