Shyne, Pusha T - Meyer Lansky lyrics

Do just what I tell you
Don't come in any closer
And no one will get hurt
Cause I don't know how long I
Can hold my heart in two

Dark shades, Eazy E
Gangland, East Side, real b's

Rick Owens, Martin Margielas
You wack rappers is dead, call the pallbearer
This is our era, double R letters
On the front of that ghost
Now who want it the most?
I'm smokin' Montecristos on 300 foot boats
Supreme and Pappy Mason taught me
How to cook coke my connect, he from Belize
He'll give you a good quote
We don't want no garbage, papi
We slittin' your full throat
I move that white girl
Make them fiends come back
Blood I put that on my momma
Sometimes I can't sleep, nightmares
Thinkin' I'ma be the killer of my
People but poverty is the evil
Poverty the reason that I go
And slang that diesel
Leave you with no other choices
Middle finger to the RICO
And corrupted politicians might as well
Go stick the needle
In the veins of a fiend, triple beam
Nahmean?
With the blood clot, watch the blood talk
Shyne Po, son, miss me with that dumb talk
Ain't no cartoons
Only sketches when the gun's drawn
Fred Hampton
Bunchy Carter when I let that pump off
Make the money pile, to the ceilin' please
Cowards fall back, and let the leader lead

This is my religion, gang land, hallelujah

A real man can admit when he's wrong
Didn't see a vision, said it in a song
The Le Meurice, we had a meetin' of the dons
Mind state was when the TEC was in his palm
Now it's back to business, bygones be bygones
Another notch in this legacy we tie on
Cut from the same cloth
Quick to let them thangs off
Leave your face numb like this
Kilo that I shave off
God! Imagine what I've made off
Woo! No paper trail like Madoff
Been concentratin' on my camp like Adolf
They wanna lock a nigga up
And cut his braids off
Ha! I guess it comes with the territory
When every real nigga in the
City's bettin' on me
Real bitches usin' sex as a weapon on me
I see the reason why
These rap niggas threatened, homie

Fresh up out the prison
Where the welcome at?
Shyne Po, Mandela, Young Nelson back
We just say that I sell
Some crack 'as genocide
But that's a lie, we know the that
Autobiographical, I sell 'em rap
I just talk about my life
I went to Hell and back
You could say that I sell some facts
Through the statutory limitations
I'm careful what I tell in raps
Roll the window down, and let the semi fire
It's 15 on the skinny tire
See the big B all up on the backside
Yeah I'm the big B, flag on my right side
I ain't talkin' 'bout it
Hold that Bugatti talk
Close your mouth, son, listen
John Gotti talk i can tell you 'bout
This revolution lifestyle
And, they servin' triple lifetime
Gang rap mogul, used to be the shooter
I ran up out the club, red rag and a Ruger
Now I run New York like King Tut and Scooter
This is my religion, gang land, hallelujah
Moses Levi, bury my rivals
Make you creeps disappear like
Durant in the Finals
Worship no idol, holy recital
Not guilty, your honor
Right hand on the Bible