lirik lagu black thought - the professional
[intro: mickey – rocky iii]
this guy’ll k!ll ya to death inside o’ three rounds!
this guy, is a wrecking machine! (uh-huh)
and he’s hungry…(uh, uh)
[verse]
humour! these n-ggas makin’ me laugh
a natural born hustler, got to make that cash
a natural born fe’, she gotta shake that -ss
anybody tryna eat, they gotta break that fast
million crabs in the barrel, wanna make they splash
the quick run fast, nice n-ggas finishin’ last
it don’t matter, yo, the speakers, or the hammers could blast
i handle yo’ -ss, you slippin’, i’ma take yo’ stash
it’s black ink! what you think? is you ignorant, or what?
life’s a b-tch, i’ll tell you when i’m finished wit’ this much [?]
smoke toke, and power-broke, and brothers syndicated up
see them spinnin’ satellite dishes, that’s sittin’ on the truck
nah, we’ll drive fast, to your lip or your jaw
lady hittin’ me wit’ the number, like’ ‘gimme a call,’
i ain’t doin’ no graffiti, but i’m quick on the draw
paint a picture of a pistol, while i’m kickin’ your door
get on the floor, and i don’t mean the ‘dancin’ type’
wit’ all the dj’s, and the bar, and fancy lights
i’m talkin’ ’bout them rats and roaches, and some mice
cement floor, you left [?], for the rest of your life
’cause you’s a amateur, done rappin’ a professional mic
who need to get his chin slapped wit’ a professional pipe
wah![?] but then the cops, they wanna cuff my wrist
that’s not my twist, i’d rather blow the spot like this
i’m at a table with five chicks, that’s not my b-tch
stupid n-ggas, tryna figure, “how he got my bit…?”
because, i lay the law, hem it up, st-tch by st-tch
play tough, and i’mma cut you, like you a sandwich
i’m just a calm, nonchalant, not-givin’-a-f-ck type
and you all uptight, and you can’t f-ck right
and still you want a lady, who just can’t get enough, right?
well, that’s the reason that she wit’ us, a’ight!
gimme a light, for this spliff, o’ hypnochrish [?] i’m holdin’
big, wheels, i’m rollin’, bigger bills i’m foldin’
cash flow controllin’, account’s gone swollen
one ounce on purple, another couple on golden
twisted, i bake the whole projects biscuits
this kid is a, trend setter, ya’ll just misfits
willie gank, i been better, y’all just begginin’ sh-t
now this a life-or-death, predicament, i step in wit’
a vendetta, then start spittin’ sh-t, this big game [?], that’s ridiculous
ya motherf-cker’s insignificant, i’m .357 magnificent
stay playin’ where them bad b-tches, is
you feelin’ me, man
you know y’all n-ggas ain’t stoppin’ a thang
rolled on, see, i been up on top o’ my game
yo, dawg, see i’m never gonna change my name
you better, park your brakes, or change your lane
because, fam’, you know they fin’ lift the semi-automatic ban
they fin’ to have them in the ghetto, goin’ at it, man
they bring it to your block, and have it like pakistan
philly boys, makin’ noise, clingin’ like static, an’
them young cannons, even jump out vans
leave you laid out, stiffer than the mannequin stands
you get, sprayed out, clapped with mechanical hands
that kick back, ’cause you and your mansa
get zapped, just keep, thinkin’ o’ inks, the people’s enjoyin’ it
i, cold-blooded, k!ll sh-t, keep on doin’ it
’cause, that’s my pleasure, is the people’s enjoyment
gangsters, holla at me, if you seekin’ employment
sure, kid, that’s only if you willin’ to learn
’cause it’s a hard grind, but it got a heavy return
i seen some hard times, now i got cheddar to burn
but still, got mo’ cheddar to earn, it’s black ink, n-gga!
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