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Lyrics Submitted By: CyBeR ThuG
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yea yo 
Yo yo yo yo yo yo yo 
All them real live mother fuckin niggaz step up front right now
Itís goin down
One love to Long Island Hempstead in my heart baby
Shaolin what?
Come on, come on, HA!
Dangerous ground
Tre pound seven spin around for my brethren the clouds come down
War and peace, I take it to the street
Land sharp on my lawn chop the thumbs off a thief
And curse his first born, is this thing on?
Send Ďem to the children of the corn we the people
See, niggaz through the eye of the demon
My lethal injection, destroyin evil
Hot Nikkel, private eye one pistol
Aimin at your brain tissue, do or die
Said the spider to the fly ďCould this one be tastyĒ
Like momma apple pie goodness, Johnny Blaze me
On the job like Dick Tracy
Hit the cure for that ill shit like Ben Casey, M.D.
Symbolic thrill like god he shocked it
Like a finger in a light socket, too good to be forgotten
In the rotten apple
I kick dirt on the sand castle
Check the flavor all natural
(Beat your feet)
Hot Niks son
Before you get the main course
(Taste a appetizer)
Submerged in the word
Heavy headed verbal
Smack you, mentally disturb you attack you
Thirty-six chamb once again comin at you
Young gun got the body snatch you observe
Yo eyes work you can only see through the third
Eyeball baby Iím the norm on the bird
To shine on mental nourishment, you can dine on
Track yellin at me get yo arrow god
Victory is hard
Regardless to whom or what 
They all get retard itís a law
Runnin through a house and your block party, we wreck-tion
And Hot rock the body body, St. Bernard's
Couldnít save your entourage plat lobotomy
Leave ya mentally scarred, numb and possibly
Dumb deaf and blind is it
I keep your spine out the battery pack spark it with mine keep it movin
Now everybody just throw your hands in the......(phone rings)
What the fuck?
Peace - who this?
Mind detect mind
A P.L.O. da startin line
Deep Space Nine
Designed for knuckleheads who bust guns and throw signs
Letís converse snatch the tap from your purse
Body-surf on the verse head first
Peeped your feet bitch straight beat you know wit the heat
And you spazzed out spittin out teeth ainít nothin please
Big boys donít destroy blunt is so pop stare on
50 men convoy, spends to wear the big toy
Rumble through the wasteland my hands on the silencer
40 caliber city slicker Staten Islander
Synchronize minds combine thoughts that motivate 
Don'tí perpetrate pass the blunt let it circulate 
Street politicians on a suicide mission
Crime vision finger itchin from a scope-view position
Dangerous ground
Treí pound seven spin around for my brethren the cloud comes down
[Method Man]
Keep ya eyes open 
Love potion number nine poetry in motion
Knowledge me the seventh sign
Scold it connivin
Infiltrate is most of mine 
Play Ďem nonchalantly, calmly expose the nine
Push and get shoved what the fuck gods thinkin of
Comin in the club wit that screw face, actin up
Is we men or mice, bad moon risin
We wild for the night
Kill a schizophrenic nigga twice cuz-a
Thatís what happened when frontin on this Shaol brotha
Island of Staten we in here no fear
Assault wit intent
To kill your whole regiment itís real
Startin wit yo president, duckin my dart gun 
Tear apart something you donít want it then donít start none
Blaze one with Jonathon, part man part fly
Handle my B-I camouflage like G.I.
Fat like Joe, a day in the life
Your money or your life thatís the life
Everybody canít afford ice in the struggle
Tryin to eat right another day another hustle hustle hustle
(Uh huh uh huh uh huh uh huh uh huh)
Dangerous ground
Treí pound seven spin around for my brethren the clouds come down 
War and peace, I take it to the street
Land sharp on my lawn chop the thumbs off a thief
Mother fuck

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