Showbiz & A.G.

Showbiz & A.G. - Hard To Kill lyrics

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Before becoming a runaway slave  here's a taste of
 mental slavery. A backtrack...

 ("You don't catch hell because you're a Methodist or a Baptist
 You don't catch hell because you're a Democrat or Republilcan
 You don't catch hell because you're a Mason or an Elk
 And you sure don't catch hell because you're an American
 Because if you were an American you wouldn't catch no hell
 You don't catch hell because you're a black man.")

 Check it, many try to come close
 Rest in peace to the deceased and the rest are comatose
 I'm not a joke and I go for broke
 And while I'm laughing you'll be gagging from the motherfucking gunsmoke
 Walk the streets and I play for keeps
 And while I entertain suckers stay six feet deep
 It was good while it lasted
 Broken bones and asses, tombstones and caskets
 I got fleeced, I'm not strapped, I'm a get you back
 Me saying "Mayday" with an AK, picture that
 Getting my props while you're propless
 And if you try and escape, we'll take grandma for hostage
 I carry my joint
 Hoping to smoke a sucker just to keep on point
 When Dre's team goes to extremes call up an M.D.
 Wetting a strip til my whole clip is empty
 Oh-ops and tecs ready to wreck the site
 Whoever's next to step is knifed in broad daylight
 Don't try to run, you'll get blocked off
 I got spotted by a cop, so now that cop is knocked off
 if I get back I get out with the quickness
 The D.A., the judge and the jury's on my hitlist
 Dressed in black with a hoodie and a low hat
 (What you did?) Spoke to the witness, now the witness don't know jack
 The Giant and his crew are ill
 We're sick-ass convicts, we're hard to kill

 My boys from New York (Is hard to kill)
 The brothers from Jersey (Is hard to kill)
 I say out in Philly (Is hard to kill)
 And the brothers in Boston (Is hard to kill)
 To all my peeps in Cali (Is hard to kill)
 Don't forget about Atlanta (Is hard to kill)
 To all my boys in Connecticut (Is hard to kill)
 To my crew in Texas (Is hard to kill)

 I'm around the way, 141st and 3rd
 40 bottles on the curb and my man got the bag of herb
 Another brother tried to get ill
 And try to take me out on my block, he forgot I was hard to kill
 I ran for cover so the brother missed
 He hit my man in the head, now Ed is dead, yo what is this?
 I won't stop until I see him rest
 He got popped by the cops, too late for the EMS
 Ain't no chance for survival (Why's that?)
 He tried to go head on, now he's dead on arrival
 Now you know I don't play around
 Cause the clown is face down and uptown is his burial ground
 You want beef? Well the more the merrier
 And I'm a bury that man's clan in the same area
 My entourage is fully strapped
 Turning your hard bodyguards to wussy, and pussy cats
 You know how we do it
 Putting the glock to the test, go get your vest, I'm going right through it
 He survived in intensive care
 Did the impossible in the hospital (Knocked him off right there)
 I'm an expert at disposal
 You see, everyone goes, on foes I'm killing hoes too
 Nobody takes the witness stand
 Your ass is out, I'm cleaning niggas out like Spic 'n' Span
 You want beef with a mastermind?
 But it's fine, pass the nine, now it's disaster time
 I love conflict and confrontation
 Killing enemies worse than Kennedy's assassination
 But that's not my style
 I just got buckwild so I could prove I was versatile
 Styles go on and on
 A.G. is all about peace, speaking of peace, now I'm gone

 To the brothers in D.C. (Is hard to kill)
 And the brothers in VA (Is hard to kill)
 Down in North Carolina (Is hard to kill)
 How about the brothers in Maryland? (Is hard to kill
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: London Records

Details:

Released in: 1992

Language: English

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