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lirik lagu children of the corn - harlem nights

(bloodshed)
yo, i’m mad vexed, give me your address
and i’ll deliver, stand and watch you shiver
as the bullets travel through your liver
this n-gg- bloodshed is mad rough
battling me is like jumping inside a river while you’re handcuffed
my fist is more nastier than travel fox
my silhouette inside intensive care, because i like to shadowbox
my gat makes more noise then roman candles
i stay in murder scandles, and dust the fingerprints of burner handles
and i left jehovah slain, i don’t cry over pain
cause i puff fat dimes of novacaine
murder astrologist, mad cases of manslaughter
i rape this man’s daughter, then put the sh-t on cam corder
put it for sale on 2-5th and 8th
her pops tried to flex and b-ss, then the tech correct
and spit in his face, her brother dice tried to get shiest
so i took his life, with a knife, then asked him twice about his f-cking son and wife
after that, i load the gat and let the lead start flying
that sh-t is death defying, now you need dental records to identify him
i had beef with this priest his name was father clyde
this how he died, i had seven put on his side, and fulled him with formaldehyde
i get more high then frequencies, no one gets -ss deep as me
your worst nightmare, don’t sleep on me

(chorus)
“it ain’t where you’re form it’s where you at” – rakim
so when you walk through harlem f-ggot watch your back
“it ain’t where you’re from it’s where you at” – rakim
so when you walk through harlem f-ggot watch your back

(cam’ron)
yo, i’m a cat with 9 live, but everyday i risk them
pop shots the glock at the cop and missed him now he’s all up in the system
upstate, buying for crime, slaving the time
my mother down here praying for mine
cause i’m like snider, living one day at a time
harlem’s a rough route, get snuffed out in a tough bout
the streets is full of smoking guns from people getting puffed out
i scr-p them like a sculpture, living out my f-cking culture
my crews a bunch of vultures with the .38s and holsters
and i quick to hurt a fool, cause money got that murder pull
and don’t leave my house without the guns, mask and surgicals
don’t tell me how i act and sound, i pack a mack and pound
and strap them down to clap them clowns, i never seen a cap and gown
and i’m a basketcase, i’ll bash your face, and blast your waist
in a casket trace, cause me and this b-st-rd mase, drop at a tragic place
cause uptown it ain’t nothing sweet, it’s just guns a grief
tons of beef, and little n-gg-z run the streets
and pop the boots for lots of loot
even sell a cop a deuce, on top of roofs
but be careful cause the glocks is loose
and i’ma choke you like a capsule, n-gg-z wanna scr-p? boat
and i’ma end the sh-t on that note

(big l)
my click is quick to pull a bullet through a stranger’s dome
you should’ve known not to roam through the danerzone
in harlem is where the thugs rest
in a slugfest, we sending f-ggots “all the way to heaven” like doug fresh
big l grow up in the slums of greed
i’m known for drawing guns with speed, and selling tons of weed
cause i got sons to feed
and it’s a must that i commence to slain
any f-ggot mc that goes against the grain
and i’ma smoke pataki’s -ss and rudolph giuli’ like a woolie
keep a toolie for any moolie who act fooley
so if a n-gg- disrespect l, to h-ll is where i’m send them
after i skin him, and spit some venenom in him
run with introduers, looters and sharpshooters
who spark buddah and f-ck thick b-tches with large hooters
beat n-gg-z with lead pipes, leave trails of dead mics
cause where i’m from n-gg-z jewels get run like red lights
old folks get mugged and raided, crimes are drug related
and we live by the street rules the thugs created
clowns get smoked about a thousand volts
so front and get a tech shoved down your throat

- lirik lagu children of the corn

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