Ransom, Jon Connor, Statik Selektah - The Chopper lyrics

I got a vendetta
Who make hit's? My hands better
The flow is money like I
Wet up the bank teller
The tattle tellers tell us we lock it
That's being modest
Cause I'm a motherfucker
Your momma is in to bondage
I promise I bomb it, drunk with power
This Gin and Tonic
Where I'm from niggas'll have you
Singing like Harry Connick
So fake thug shit and that drug shit, homie
Stop it
I'm from where niggas get popped and
Hold that dope in the sockets
This real shit we deal with and ignorance
There is an illness no pill could heal
Nigga feel this what can you tell us? We see
Death up out the window
Our friends go just as fast as the wind blows
We wishing we could be as
Happy as the Winslows
The pain of my kinfolks in every pen stroke
Fly, fly, fly, fly city
And I'mma hold it down til
God come and get me
Look, this for the people who
Think it's easy enough
They say pound the pavement, shit
We beating it up get robbed for bread cause
Niggas ain't eating enough
In the club deep as the fuck
Every weekend heating it up
I could tell you what the news like
Niggas you knew on the tube
The past two nights
Here there ain't no such thing as do right
Just move right cause half the niggas in the
Hood got two strikes play your position
Overpopulated with liquor stores
The liquor pours to a drunk mind that
Think ''what am I living for?''
You drowning by the conditions that
We are surrounded by
The shit that we hate is the
Shit that we bounded by
See true beef is when somebody stop breathing
Not the shit rappers do, I mean really
Somebody leavin'
My neighborhood it be safer to pack a vest
Unless you think your momma look
Good in that black dress this Connor

Lyrically I cause a holocaust
When bottles toss, it's Molotovs
Mob hit's
Niggas is screaming ''he shot the boss''
While I'm drunk as hell laughing
Stumbling out the court
They dumping them by the park
That's something I'm not involved
The sweet sounds of the street serenade
For lack of a better phrase
It's sour so we're asking for better days
The power of the black that was led astray
Blasting the lead away
Cemetaries packing the dead away
The mind of a lost soldier before closure
My poor shoulders carry the
Weight of four boulders
Life's kinda rocky like Sly before Cobra
So call Oprah
Take a piss on that whore's sofa
Everybody's balling
But Ran won't cross over
The more money, the more snakes
The more vultures
They talk funny, they all fakes
I'm all focused my prognosis is high doses
Hitting them up like Pac wrote this
These cockroaches scurry around when
The lights off i give 'em a thriller as
Soon as the mic's on
Tyson, tattoos cover his pythons
Icon, a seat on the throne
That's what's my sight's on
Controlling the heat
They say I'm like 'Bron
But I ignite bombs, verbal abortion
Serving 'em portions
Of death, ain't no rest in peace sleep
Turn in your coffin
And I was turned to an orphan
I don't pay a preacher fuck religion
I go into your church and
Burn up the offerings
Motherfuckers, so what you offering?
I only talk money, my nigga
So what you talking?
See one time so I hold my gun
A drunk mind speaks a sober tongue
So you supposed to run
Exerminator with a hard drive of
Plans to save the game
But never return the data i'm gone