(feat. 7th Ambassador, Baghdad) 



[Chorus: Hell Razah] 

+This Is 4 My GG'z+, on the corner gettin mad cheese 

Wide g's, wit them O.Z.'s 

+This Is 4 My GG'z+, workin hard gotta feed they seeds 

You either draw blood or you bleed 

+This Is 4 My GG'z+, up north gettin no v's 

Workin hard, tryna feed they seeds 

+This Is 4 My GG'z+, on the corner gettin mad cheese 

In they crib, blowin mad trees 



[Hell Razah] 

I want money for this black Christ portrait 

Plaques in my office, one phone call, find ya corpse in the coffin 

I hit like mob bosses, cautious, don't get nauseous, when I record this 

On a 24-track to a cordless, the way the rhyme shine son, know the courses 

I'm like Tyson wit no losses, you ain't hot wit that wack chorus 

Don't get it gassed up and die, tourist 

You out ya orbit, you might catch a nine Taurus 

Not the horoscope, buff arms are dope, that palm the toast 

In the streets where it's bombs to cope 

Young g's stay trippin when they moms is broke 

Cops got 'em tellin, blocks is too hot for sellin 

My pop give me a straight shot of Corel 7 

Biggie and Pac made me cop another pale seven 

Before I trust out-of-town felons 

Under the white clouds of heaven, project dead-ends 

Of snake friends, hoodies and Timbs 

Could it be +Grandz+, we used to be, closer than skin 

I seen sex in the eyes of the un-godly 

Hotties wit Halle Barry bodies 

In dark parties, Dark Bacardi, my pen tear apart armies 

I need paper to back down how it safer 

Since Diallo tell me how it got safer, hater, hater 



[Chorus] 



[Baghdad] 

You can't be G., I be the key to street prisoners 

I get it hot and turn fans into air conditioners 

We can rattle for each other's listener 

We got heat that will leak through the beek of the police commisioner 

You ain't light until your darkness, you floss and become a target 

A gangsta die like it wasn't nothin 

You know your click don't want no conflict 

A shotgun under my armpit, I put your mind on the carpet 

Chocolate, got my brain cookin like an omlette 

Brooklyn, we be that borough, that you do the song wit 

I call chicks like Max Julian, the hooligan 

Bout to blow like Hurricane Floyd, blew me in 

I use the pen like it was a mack 10 for rappin 

So I don't like you right now, and I ain't like you back then 

And that's my word, niggas got a deal off of actin 

Cuz when I see them on a the real, ain't nothin crackin 

Cats returnin when they get a job in Manhattan 

And wonder why the fuckin ghetto won't let them back in... 

All my GG'z on our thrust, let's get money 



[Chorus] 



[7th Ambassador] 

What I search for, during my days 

Is the best way outta this maze, without makin myself 

A early grave, livin life like a runaway slave 

Who slayed his master, as it was written in the chapters 

Hell that's sick that by the wicked pastors 

I roll through this ghetto labryith, for witness to madness 

Done by the average man and the savage 

Takin me back through the passage, ressurected like Lazarus 

In this wilderness, it's hazardous to ya health 

Niggas like crabs in a pot that's goin out for they self 

Or pull a gat off the rack of the shelf, from basically eat 

And watch you faggot niggas sent straight to hell 

And tell the Devil that my name is Zobadia 

And flamin fire, the same brother ain't playin no games 

+Ghetto Government+ campaign, advance brains 

On the rampage, dim ya lights like a lampshade 

Dance to ya grave nigga, I hold a gauge why they into or not 

While the trigger in my pants lay 

Tear ya face off wit the explosive force wit a hand grenade 

Fuck ya fame, this ain't no game 



[Chorus]