Shyne Edge Lyrics

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[Verse 1]
Uh uh, Uh, Uh
Ayo, mac 10s and fake friends
Lawyers little game homicide 25 with the ****ing ***** face 'em
But I'm still trill, still holdin
Rollin gully until I'm froze, close in a box with a bomb in fluid
Veins pumpin ice
First some 15 keep that king pumping right
Hard white, cold cash
Hold fast, fold fast, through the city so gas
No ***
Straight head *****, I'm one a from the feds
**** comma raps, same G and canna
All I got in this world is my fifth **** and nana
Gangsta mannerism lyrical vandalism
*****z be burnin up their gums until the ****ing hammers hit 'em
Who need help?
Well until then I'ma take that mac off the shelf
and hold the ****ing street hostage
Blowing smoke out my nostril
Every breath is a step to a non-time in death

[Hook 2X]
I want to 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 ****, half of a meal on the wrist
Sittin in my continental thinkin' about potential connects
I live in all, just pencil the best
Parts of the live of a quintessential hustler
When I pull a slide back
************s be hoppin' their faces don't get left open
You understand?
Shirt soaking, brain smoking left in the ocean floatin'
Shyne Po, dough, stack, y'all Rap *****z is trash
I don't give a **** how much records you sold
Tryin' to be me
Keep it real dog, you'll die to be me
You want to know how it feel, don't you?
To have a murder charge, took gun to the American Music Awards
And live life against stars
Doing 170 screaming "**** THE WORLD" (gangsta get outta the car)

[Hook 2X]

[Verse 3]
Where the **** them *****z at? We gonna handle this beef
Turn your mic off *****; see me in the street
**** peace 'til I'm rest in the dried up flesh is finish
I don't know how to tell until I'm in the morgue
Dysfunctional, highly uncomfortable paranoid
Without the extra clip (*****), try me I'll puncture you
Had *****z waking up with wings in their backs, halos in their head like
"Ayo I'm dead"
Can a knight ****ing princess Diana type
Vane wives, 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
Things ain't just the same for gangstas
Sleeping in diamond, it's ****ing up the game for gangstas
While charges tryin to ring a gangsta
Through it all I maintain my gangsta

[Hook until fade]

Written by: Henri Charlemagne, Jamaal Barrow
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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