Black Music

FEAT. Jim Rampage & MC Quita
album: Get The Dollar

[chorus: MC Quita][3X]
New York, Big Apple!
Now, sing wit' T.B.S. Thug
We're real thugs, shakin' the club

[Jim Rampage]
Laaaaaaa... La, la, la, la...
BLOW! BLOW!
Niggas, please, leave the front of my glock
Hittin' grazed his chops, firin' the block
His girl had a dick-belt and left you like a frog
You're up comedy reason for cops
Was never ready for competition
It's funny! You also came out of the gutter
You never could understand this matter
He thinks it's a G, he thinks it's a porn star
I was born again, I awoke from a bad dream
Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my cream
You're insignificant like a fuckin' dust
Don't step on the sidewalk of my crib
You never smoked one smoke wit' me

[chorus: MC Quita][3X]
New York, Big Apple!
Now, sing wit' T.B.S. Thug
We're real thugs, shakin' the club

[Bigg Sound]
The motherfucker knows who's right
The motherfucker knows who leaves home at night
I'm right and you're wrong
I've never been wrong and you're never right
Any motherfucker that song will be tight
Flippin' the smoke, hitin' himself in the head
Life goes fast, out soon that slum
The money isn't for everyone
The music is just one more stunt
I'm a real killa shootin' at a fake killa
I'm a nigga rhyming to another BX nigga
B.I. double G.
I rhyme for real to who wants to kill me

[chorus: MC Quita][3X]
New York, Big Apple!
Now, sing wit' T.B.S. Thug
We're real thugs, shakin' the club

[MC Quita]
New York.. I run!
New York.. I run!
New York.. I run!
Singin' like a star, I'll come

[chorus: MC Quita][3X]
New York, Big Apple!
Now, sing wit' T.B.S. Thug
We're real thugs, shakin' the club