Shyheim - S.I.N.Y. lyrics
[Shyheim - S.I.N.Y. lyrics]
You can catch me on Broadway, watching a play
Or you can catch me on Broadway
Copping a cake either way it lay
Shy got a four pound to bang
Look at me and my wifey
Hoping out that white Range
You should throw it to my brain
And take my BU chain
I know what you thinking
That's why you see me reaching
But, you one lucky bastard, police rolled up
Cuz Castro blast those
Mash throw for Bottom Up
And I'm chilling like I won the lotto, yup
My car so fly look like it should be in
The air with the sun i'm from the H-O-O-D
And evidently fear is not a factor for me
You should rationally think
Cuz you can actually stink
In the hood for weeks, fucking with me
I don't only rap good, ma
I'm something to see
And you can't count me out
Cuz niggas counting on me
You got a gun, blow it, you got your blunt
Smoke it
You got a strip we can flip coke, bring heat
(You got a beat, rip it, you got a V, whip it
You got a heat, clip it
We make the streets listen)
You got a TV, then you gon' see me
You don't get Cash Money no more, you BG
(You got a beat, rip it, you got a V, whip it
You got a heat, clip it
We make the streets listen)
Aiyo the tray 8 it dark and the skin tone
I can't fuck with a bitch that be
Talking more shit than Miss Jones
You know the nigga dead when he spit foam
Cats is mad
Cuz I got the bigger half of the wishbone
I took it back to the
Flip phone, call my shit, home
10301, is my zip code
Stay wit more rings that Sprint tones
The shot to the stomach
And be throwing up blood like Jim Jones
Brat, I'm hotter than cotoroids
I know niggas in the hotter strip
That hit harder than Water Boy
Have a nigga father your daughter, boy
Flash on a nigga
Like the shit, is a part of your Polaroid
Shotty's official, kamikaze the issue
At the time it'll lift you
It's a hobby to diss you
John Gotti'll kiss you, mom probably get you
In the lobby with nickels, bout
To cop me a missle, what up
Yeah, I'm Shyheim
Yeah I got a Chinese chick named Ilene
Yeah, she feed me beef
Fried rice and chicken wings
Yeah, I got a soft in her for 23
No, I don't say I know niggas
Niggas say they know me
No, I never heard of your set, or your OG
No, hell no, I don't roll with a clan
What part of the N or the O
Don't you understand?
Yeah, I'm Castro, yeah
I got white AK's with black scopes
Yeah, I got Arab niggas with black dope
Yeah, I know lives in game, you that slow?
No, I don't know that nigga, we not cool
No, I don't hang with niggas that don't move
No, I ain't from this block, but got jewels
No, means no, my nigga, I'm not
Rude, yeah, I pop tools, nigga
Or you can catch me on Broadway
Copping a cake either way it lay
Shy got a four pound to bang
Look at me and my wifey
Hoping out that white Range
You should throw it to my brain
And take my BU chain
I know what you thinking
That's why you see me reaching
But, you one lucky bastard, police rolled up
Cuz Castro blast those
Mash throw for Bottom Up
And I'm chilling like I won the lotto, yup
My car so fly look like it should be in
The air with the sun i'm from the H-O-O-D
And evidently fear is not a factor for me
You should rationally think
Cuz you can actually stink
In the hood for weeks, fucking with me
I don't only rap good, ma
I'm something to see
And you can't count me out
Cuz niggas counting on me
You got a gun, blow it, you got your blunt
Smoke it
You got a strip we can flip coke, bring heat
(You got a beat, rip it, you got a V, whip it
You got a heat, clip it
We make the streets listen)
You got a TV, then you gon' see me
You don't get Cash Money no more, you BG
(You got a beat, rip it, you got a V, whip it
You got a heat, clip it
We make the streets listen)
Aiyo the tray 8 it dark and the skin tone
I can't fuck with a bitch that be
Talking more shit than Miss Jones
You know the nigga dead when he spit foam
Cats is mad
Cuz I got the bigger half of the wishbone
I took it back to the
Flip phone, call my shit, home
10301, is my zip code
Stay wit more rings that Sprint tones
The shot to the stomach
And be throwing up blood like Jim Jones
Brat, I'm hotter than cotoroids
I know niggas in the hotter strip
That hit harder than Water Boy
Have a nigga father your daughter, boy
Flash on a nigga
Like the shit, is a part of your Polaroid
Shotty's official, kamikaze the issue
At the time it'll lift you
It's a hobby to diss you
John Gotti'll kiss you, mom probably get you
In the lobby with nickels, bout
To cop me a missle, what up
Yeah, I'm Shyheim
Yeah I got a Chinese chick named Ilene
Yeah, she feed me beef
Fried rice and chicken wings
Yeah, I got a soft in her for 23
No, I don't say I know niggas
Niggas say they know me
No, I never heard of your set, or your OG
No, hell no, I don't roll with a clan
What part of the N or the O
Don't you understand?
Yeah, I'm Castro, yeah
I got white AK's with black scopes
Yeah, I got Arab niggas with black dope
Yeah, I know lives in game, you that slow?
No, I don't know that nigga, we not cool
No, I don't hang with niggas that don't move
No, I ain't from this block, but got jewels
No, means no, my nigga, I'm not
Rude, yeah, I pop tools, nigga