Intro: Beretta 9 & Killa Sin
Yo. Smell that gun powder in the air?
Yo. I smell it kid.
Shit is like this everyday when I wake up.
We do this shit all time kid.
It's a war zone.
It ain't nothing new over here.
Word up.
You know?
Killarmy time. Military thing.
Shaolin thing.
It's Born build nigga.
Gotta civilize.
Yo. Check it out. Yo. Yo.
Chorus: Beretta 9
Where I rest at niggaz scheme at plot
Sling rocks, stars, cops over on our block and get fought
Bust a shot and get shot, smoke pot, get locked
Do a bid, while some taught to resurface to the street
Some don't last, won't weep
Where I rest at keep a vest and a gat at least three ways back
So, the flash can't track, where I rest at do the one to time
Double dirty crossed sneeky snake fucks, where I rest at
[Killa Sin]
Kid, but where I rest at the crime wave be jumping off
Like suicide, commitors on a busy highway with they clothes off
The fire trucks, trust, bull swine, blow your draws off
The nine year olds toying with his sword off
He can hardly tie his nikes up right, so how the fuck you blow his toes off
>From modernized, so are common, coarsed, where I rest at
Steping out the front doors is set back
The warzone, the death trap, waiting to consume those who get trapped
Shaolin, the villianous island filled with hidden pure-breds
Killing niggaz who thrive on the forbidden rituals
Or getting you in the drop, fuck sticking moves
The pick you almost mentally popped like Scotty Pippen
Most niggaz fame is almost chain gangs in state prisons
Wu-Tang reign this worldwide cave for dirty richmen
(Chorus)
