Streetlife - Let Them Come lyrics

Yeah, yeah
Let them, let them, let them, let them
Let them
Let them, let them, let them, let them
Let them

Where I come from
We don't run when the cops come
We die with our guns, if you want something
Take something shaolin, son
Still bangin' those Warrior's Drum
I'm a Staten bum, with a hazardous tongue
I got grizzly
Bear back niggas rollin' with me
So hustlin' with Street, is real risky
Who wanna bang bang? Do you really?
Son, I slap you silly
Leave a quarter of your brain dizzy
I'm a Park Hill, hillbilly
Packs a nine milli'
From New York City, bust your gun
But don't miss me
I'm liable, to run up in your wedding recital
Pump lead through the bottle
Hit the preacher in the bible
My life is like a Green Mile
My thoughts is suicidal
Shorties likin' my style, aiyo
I'm not your idol
I'm a side effect, from a drug overdose
Pull out the black toast
You start catchin' the holy ghost

Let them come, I said me ready for them
Ahhhhhhh
Let them come, I said me ready for them
Ahhhhhhh

I smoke MC's like sherm sticks
Hold a nina with a firm grip
For all y'all, don't know
Best to learn quick
I bust my gun until it goes click, click
Feel me? I don't give a
Fuck who you roll with
You can go and get who you wanna get
I got an extra clip to put
A mudhole in that bullshit
Come on, you can bring your whole click
Watch me pop 'em like hot grit's
When the Glock spit
I turn thugs to prophets, havin' you changin'
Your name, to Ahmed Mustafa
This is Killa Hill Projects
Nothing but convicts, and conflicts
Run up on your style, it can be on some old
Run your garments
Let them come, I said me ready for them
I heard them bust them guns
Y'all better bust them again
I roll with a gang of thieves
Off of social disease
That won't, hesitate to squeeze, nigga please

Street, walk with a limp, straight gorilla
Mood killer, shit on your picnic
Very pestimistic
Mostly roll for delf, promote self
Everything else is everything else
Criminal minded, filled with hatred
Put down your guns, your ammo don't waste it
I'm troublesome, pack a mack double one
Bring drama
That's what y'all niggas don't need
Cause trauma, make a thug slow up his speed
I'm sick with it, foamin' from the mouth
Watch me spit it
Watch the critics, be like, he got potential
I bust your snotbox
If you second guess the Street credentials
Stop the press and bitches, drop ya dresses
Warriors trapped through essense
(let them come)
Come in peace, or, leave on stretchers
Gangstas, stick to your guns
Or thump on the streets
Cuz I don't plan to run

Bust them again