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tr love - qbx (scared to speak) lyrics
{tommy gibbs}
times be desperate, spit ya best sh-t
in this business, on some life or death
i’ve been high in these streets, cried in these streets
willing, but i’m trying not to die on these streets
got my mind on my stack, vibe on a track
hang with them cats that twist n-ggas back
gibbs moves state to state, cakin a stash
i sware, trying to watch them there, don’t wanna crash
destination far, got k!llas in the car
minute we touch down, n-ggas know who we are
bubble in the spot, till it get too hot
and then we blowin that one horse town back on the block
in the mix, my cl!ck stay back to back
we gon’ the metal clap, till the sh-t jump back
guarantee to get wet, when my bronze connect
make moves when it’s on, straight bomb ya set
chorus 2x: both
gibbs and tariq
got ya scared to speak
cuz when it pop, ya might not drop
but you gon leak
ready to die, two of the best from ny
n-ggas feelin theyselves, it’s welcome to try
{lord tariq}
the name of the father, son, holy ghost and spirit
if it’s rhymes, i’mma spit it, dutch, i’mma split it
cash we gonna get it, c0ke money to credit, we do it to debt it
these rules and bet it, loan to tommy gibbs
by any means get cream
n-gga mob we is, bx to queens
give a f-ck about the set you screen, the set you ream
cuz when i wave this motherf-ckin tech you lean
logic, we in it for the prophet
won’t stop less the barricade, the white stone and cars lit
hot sh-t, we spit, got sh-t to get
doin are own thing, 90 in a slow lane
smoke the cocaine, trying to own things
in a jag, bumpin cuban, you own grown things
two of the illest n-ggas, ain’t sh-t gon’ change
for this paper, i split ya brains, so get your things
chorus 2x
{tommy gibbs}
bet it all on we, watch us push red line on these n-ggas
bring the whole squad, go hard on these n-ggas
ain’t thinkin bout the law, just walk up to they door
beat them to the jaw, heat them to the floor
stop till they drill and they wrists is locked
funny how they ain’t go no more sh-t to pop
make it hot for the paper, you drop for the paper
run up in your spot, twin glocks for the paper
{lord tariq}
drug caper in the rap game, quick to pull a swami
met up with my o.y.g. n-ggas in miami
die for the cause together n-gga we family
they can’t stand me, thugs up for a grammy
feds wanna sn-tch me, they caught works and scriptures
think i don’t see them in the club takin pictures
call the phone, hang up, times they say “we gonna get ya”
if the studios bugged, with all respect
get off my d-ck son
chorus 2x
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