This Is Family (From Nothin To Somethin 2007)

Текст песни Joe Budden and Fabolous, Paul Cain - This Is Family (From Nothin To Somethin 2007)

Where the fuck's all these niggas saying Ran isn't hot?
I damage the block, I scramble like Randall with rocks
I'm that nigga in the gambling spot
Cracking jokes and drinking liquor, you still gotta hand me a guap
I'm in the kitchen with the pans and the pots, razor on the plate
Tryna figure out how many grams I'ma chop
Family or not, some niggas making plans with the cops
Tryna figure out how to make this animal stop
Who these niggas tryna take down, break down, trey-pound
Eight rounds, he ain't feeling nothing from the waist down
Hit up, lit up, he never gon' get up
There's only one legend alive, the rest you gotta dig up
You acting like it's hard to roast ya
I'll creep in your crib and put your brains on your Barkley posters
Got no time to be boxing around, I got the ox and the pound
I'll leave you in a box in the ground
Got the keys to the game and we locking this down
Underwater with the sharks and we not gonna drown
Got the order from the narcs, they still watching the town
I'm copping the pound, there ain't no stopping us now, my nigga

Your clique trip, clip spit, get your strip wet
I got the rubber grip Smith in my rich sweats
Player haters talking 'bout they gon' get Freck
I'm in the Lam' sunk lower than a shipwreck
They call me bar for bar 'cause I spit the better lines
The white bitch got me rich like Federline
Fuck a G-pack, I show you how to re-crack
You get it soft and then you rock it like T-Mac
The weed good price, plus it smoke so special
Three thousand for a pound of some Dro Pesci
Y'all niggas only talkers, I'll let my homies spark ya
We in them Spurs that's faster than Tony Parker
This is family, nigga, do never cross my brother
Like Big Worm, niggas rather cross they mother
Mention names in my family tree
This nigga talking crazy like insanity plea
I swear to God the next nigga I give it to
Is going to a place FedEx can't deliver to
I'm West Philly Freck, yeah, I get dirty
I'm the best, hands down like six-thirty

Look, like Michael J. Fox, I got family ties
Opposing us can't be wise, whoever cross the family dies
Something small as a look can bring about a man's demise
And whoever he stands beside, hit 'em where he can't survive
Throw the drop, I'm slipping, objective not to miss him
Nine-shot pop a clip and pine box the opposition
Put him in formal dress, right hand across the left
No autopsy necessary, determine the cause of death
Six shots across the chest, should explain his loss of breath
Skin peeled off the flesh, I know you wish you wore a vest
That's a no-brainer, I'm coming with both flamers
Spraying but I'm no painter, to this, hey, I'm no stranger
It's obvious you're no bangers, you dudes pose no danger
Your whole crew chumps in the closet like coat hangers
Like purple broke up in the Dutch, leave you broke up on a crutch
That's what happens when shooters choke up in the clutch
We gon' body you and have to hook your wife up to an IV tube
Put both of your parents side by side in the ICU
Closed casket so they can't have a proper wake
Don't interfere with family business, that's how we operate

Niggas is letting birds turn the tables on they squad
You need help with a jump, got some cables in the car
'Cause they all become nondescript
When something bright is on your wrist
Like you repping the Bionic Six, you on fire
When guns fire, your lungs tire
I'm an idol, niggas is sons, y'all, now who wanna try it?
That four-five'll spit, I slump you in the driver's seat
And make you really go try at the whip
It's real talk, shade niggas couldn't get a tan from me
'Cause I'll get in the ring for that Vince McMahon money
Soon as it's untucked, blam, talking 'bout you touch grams
I'm coming through your window, something like Bruh-Man
It's just who we are, if I see y'all, it's ER
Vacay in PR, shirt and jeans G-Star
Tell me how they gon' manage
Letting off Virginia TECs now, dudes ain't even safe on campus
Got a spaz on cowards
Every twenty-four, every half hour, niggas be trying to be Jack Bauer
So let fam keep talking
And you gon' need a weekend at Bernie's
If you trying to get back down walking

I guess it's left to me, the popcorn slinger, to pop off, nigga
Calluses on my pop finger, pop off, nigga
Pop through, throw the drop, kick the lock off, dump
For them bodies, got 'bout six slots in the trunk
Chef Boy supplying, wic wop is drying
When they move that more wic wop arriving
And my connect from Phoenix, his connect named Felix
Still keep the iron like my right hand anemic
For the family, I be squeezing, no reason
Blood work, nobody leaving this bitch breathing
Niggas on the low kidnap my flow
Coulda asked for it, I woulda gift-wrapped my flow
Don't gotta ask for it, I'm gon' sit back the four
Flip it around, let the handle crack your jaw
East side, west side, I be in my Converse
This a convict rapping, it's a con's verse
Arm & Hammer mizzan, Los, Joey, or Rizzan
All they gotta do is chirp and them things gon' blizzam
Shakedown fizzam
Straight from the Brooklyn borough that never rizzam, blaka, blaka

Now if they get me on wire traces, I'ma die in Comstock
I got prior cases for riding with firearms cocked
Firebomb box set up by your mom's block
Go off on time 'cause it's wired by alarm clock
I get his legs, you grab him by his arm, ahk
We gon' do this lion harm while his crying moms watch
Last seen in Brooklyn, they found him by a Bronx lot
Rifle from the roof, yeah, we got him by a long shot
We don't fire warn shots, niggas fire on SWAT
And if they get me, Brooklyn gon' riot on spot
I'm from the hood, so I'm supplying bombrock
'Round here, that's better than buying from Viacom stock
Look, you can't hold nothing but I got a shell to give
I make his relatives show me where the fella live
Ain't that his baby sis? Get up in this labiness
'Fore I pull his curtains, start squirting like Baby Kiss
If he ain't heard yet, bet that get the word buzzing
You send a message when you kill a nigga third cousin
Niece, nephew, they gon' need Tef too
This'll go in and out they chest like a breath do
You Clay Aiken soft, you playing games 'til there's red lights on ya
It's like the PlayStation's off
Smith & Wesson work, Luger 9 labor
Professional shit like they did Leon's neighbors
This is family, nigga, do not cross the brothers
I'll put you in a box, one hand across the other
A small price to pay, son, it might cost your mother
One of your grandparents, even your baby brother
'Cause everybody knows, everybody goes
I want 'em in coffins, everybody's closed
Related by the streets, this is family, B
So you better not touch a branch on this family tree, nigga