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Shyne Edge Lyrics

Last updated: 12/08/2006 11:00:00 AM

[Verse 1]
Uh uh, Uh, Uh
Ayo, mac 10s and fake friends
Lawyers little game homicide 25 what the fuck a nigga facin
But I'm still trill, still holdin
Rollin gully until I'm frozen, closed in a box with embalming fluid
Veins pumpin ice
First and 15th keep that caine pumping right
Hard white, cold cash
Hold fast, fold fast, through the city so gas
No ass
Straight head bitch, I'm running from the feds
Fuck comma raps, Sam Giancana
All I got in this world is my fifth dick and nana
Gangsta mannerism lyrical vandalism
Niggaz be burnin up their guns until the fucking hammers hit 'em
Who need help?
Well until then I'ma take that mac off the shelf
and hold these fucking streets hostage
Blowing smoke out my nostrils
Every breath is a step to a untimely death

[Hook 2X]
I wanna know where to go
Need a place in my mind I can rest
Cause this time is running out for my flesh
Dried up, sittin' in a chair fried up

[Verse 2]
You know me; I don't need no introduction in this
Big gun, big dick, half of a mill on the wrist
Sittin in my continental thinkin' about potential connects
I live it all, just pencil the best
Parts of the life of a quintessential hustler
When I pull a slide back
Motherfuckers be hoping they faces don't get left open
You understand?
Shirt soaking, brain smoking left in the ocean floatin'
Shyne Po, dough, stack, y'all Rap niggaz is trash
I don't give a fuck how much records you sold
Tryin' to be me
Keep it real dog, you dyin to be me
You wanna know how it feel, don't you?
To have a murder charge, tote guns at American Music Awards
And live life against odds
Doing 170 screaming "FUCK THE WORLD" (gangsta get outta the car)

[Hook 2X]

[Verse 3]
Where the fuck them niggaz at? We gonna handle this beef
Turn your mic off bitch; see me in the street
Fuck peace 'til I'm restin in the [dried up flesh is finish]?
I don't know how to chill til I'm in the morgue
Dysfunctional, highly uncomfortable paranoid
Without the extra clip (bitch), try me I'll puncture you
Had niggaz waking up with wings in their backs, halos in their head like
"Ayo I'm dead"
Can a knight fucking princess Diana type
Vana White, vane light, pen I write cold, hand of ice
They said too much for the motor mind to comprehend
Walk wit me, pause take a breath (lets go)
Things ain't just the same for gangstas
Secret indictments fucking up the game for gangstas
[?] charges tryin to arraign a gangsta
Through it all I maintain my gangsta

[Hook until fade]