21st Century Crisis

歌詞

[Intro: Shyheim] Flick up your lighters (yeah, uh) Flick up your lighters (yeah, yeah, yeah, come on, Bottom Up! yeah) Flick up your lighters (Ay, 2Pac already told y'all moron) Who got beef, I'm just here to reinform my shit You know, you done did Big, you done did Craig Mack Man, you did Shyheim (New York, New York) You did the kid That's how we gon' do it, we gon' this real clever From the Staten Island connection, oh [Chorus: Shyheim] I'm the 21st Century Crisis, run with two five-to-lifers That buck at bikers, get booked on Riker's I'm the 21st Century Crisis, I'm a fighter Flick up your lighters, for your nigga With bigger website, despite us I'm the 21st Century Crisis, run with two five-to-lifers That buck at bikers, get booked on Riker's 21st Century Crisis, I'm a fighter Flick up your lighters, my nigga [Shyheim] I'm street intelligent Puffin' that drink with Lazanet, that get an elephant Get out of line, like them little kid, colorin' I body your ass, then bury your ass, then dig you Back the fuck up, and shoot up your skeletons For talkin' all that jazz, like you Duke Ellington I melt your shit, like when Sundew, people with no melennin Shy, the 21st Century Crisis, spittin' shit And piss on rappers, like they C.O.'s on Riker's Death arrive, the last face you'll ever see is Shy's And my hand's wrapped around more necks than Armani ties Came through in the M-5, tinted and kitted The color of spinach, with Monica and Mya in it I inspired, The Boy Is Mine Remix And the begets on my wrists be the size of Cheez-It's I've been gettin' it, ever since I could remember That's why I post a million dollar bail like Baretta I crush your mic, I crush your mic twice I move like Saddam, I got twenty look-a-likes Wear twenty different color Nike's I'm like Ghost, I keep a bird on my arm flooded with ice [Chorus] [Interlude: Shyheim] Yeah, flick up your lighters It's Bottom Up, nigga [Shyheim] I bust your head open, with an 40 ounce of Old English Then be thinkin' to myself, I could of, should of drinked it As a man think of inner thoughts So he in, deep inside your pudding, you don't want it with kid Who got it on with the dogs, and every jail of my bid Had a scalpal put up my ass, not on no faggot shit Twenty one guns a year, that's what my average is And I ain't gon' quit, until you get my enemies The what? Out the whip, I'm the dude that they love to hate Hate that they love, with too much street drama To be in somebody's club, so I'm cautious Cuz I know shit that get funky, just like horse shit Like I could be dead or in jail, by the morning All everybody else'll be doing is talking About the unfortunate, let a couple years fly by Everybody forget, it's like you gone in the wind You going to the pen, but y'all don't hear me though Let me say the shit again, like you gone in the wind You going to the pen, twenty years will make a friend One day to lose a friend, that's why I speak less and listen more [Chorus] [Outro: Shyheim] Flick up your lighters, flick up your lighters I'm the 21st Century Crisis, and that means Man, I'm bringing it back to New York Staten Island, New York (put ten years on this beat) Brooklyn, Queens, The Bronx, Manhattan, Uptown (cock that shit) You know takin' my early days, let's take this shit back New York, New York, that's where I'm from