paroles de chanson The Come Up - AZ
Just
gimme
the
countdown
Know
where
we
goin
{*scratched:
"AZ"*}
Uh-huh
{*"AZ"*}
{*"Streets
is
yours
for
the
takin
now"*}
Feels
so
good
{*"AZ"*}
(AZ)
You
know
the
come
up,
stack
get
right,
put
the
gun
up
Laugh,
get
nice,
split
the
blunt
up
Pray
blue
and
whites
don't
run
up,
remain
humble
You
see
the
change
when
the
Range
come
through
When
all
the
fame
ups
your
game
cause
your
name's
mumbled
The
chicks
notice,
usually
it's
like
hypnosis
It's
ferocious
when
broke
niggaz
get
focused
The
cars
come
out,
bottles
at
the
bar
run
it
You
know
you're
large
when
you
in
car
could
dodge
a
drought
But
here's
the
twist
up,
when
beef
and
the
money
mix
up
Skirts
lift
up,
a
few
fights,
few
stick-ups
Then
one
little
thing
just,
leads
to
the
next
and
Here
come
them
hot
boys
to
breathe
down
your
neck
Now
you
gotta
pack
up,
flee
from
the
rest
and
Just
so
we
can
go,
you
was
free
from
the
stress
I
guess
it
is
what
it
is
(Chorus:
DJ
Premier
scratching)
"Creepin
on
a
come
up"
"Streets
is
yours
for
the
takin
now"
"Creepin
on
a
come
up"
"I'm
from
the
place
where
hardcore
is
beautiful"
"Creepin
on
a
come
up"
"Streets
is
yours
for
the
takin
now"
"I'm
rather
unique"
"I'm
from
the
place"
"Brooklyn"
(AZ)
You
know
the
saga,
who
liver,
who
hotter
Who
shot
at
who
at
the
Ramada
I
knew
about
beef
since
Bambaataa
Before
"Beat
Street"
streets
was
heavily
deep
with
the
riders
Guns
and
money,
some
was
hungry
Dysfunctional
families
that
come
from
junkies
Jailbirds
with
wanted
warrants
up
in
countries
Just
jungle
survivin
like
a
bunch
of
monkies
Marked
dollars,
D.A.
NARC's
with
collars
Niggaz
snitchin,
but
still
got
the
heart
to
holla
Hot
chicks
in
short
skirts
and
damn
near
topless
Play
fly
and
they
gossip,
stay
high
and
just
ride
dick
Can't
call
it,
too
fresh
to
spoil
it
Two
tecs
to
war
with,
grew
up
next
to
all
this
So
understand
I
know
from
firsthand
The
lies
of
a
church
man,
high
off
his
first
gram
(Chorus)
(AZ)
The
jails
is
packed,
the
streets
is
wack
It's
even
worse
when
your
workers
tappin
your
beeper
sack
Wifey's
gettin
feisty,
she's
beefin
back
Though
it's
unlikely,
it
might
be
her
Visa's
maxed
The
coke
is
up,
so
now
kush
and
dro's
what's
up
And
the
Ricans
got
the
game
in
the
cobra
clutch
The
D's
in
the
Capris
too
close
to
duck
But
what
the
fuck,
they
can
suck
on
some
coconuts
The
stress
is
real,
it
drains
all
the
sex
appeal
Nuttin
left
but
jail
death
or
a
record
deal
Vibes
is
weak,
hoes
wanna
slide
and
creep
Even
fiends
got
a
thing
for
that
hide
and
seek
Stick-up
kids,
kidnap,
switch
up
cribs
It's
still
crazy
how
them
cocksuckers
hit
up
Big
'Pac
is
gone,
the
state
of
hip-hop
is
wrong
You
want
more
then
long
on
to
A-Z
dot
com
(Chorus)
w/
ad
libs
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