Cuts To The Gut Lyrics - Singles - Buddha Monk

[intro: buddha monk, (shorty shit stain)] 

Yea, aight, yo 

We just gon' shut all these mothafuckas up 

(for all y'all gangsta mothafuckas) 

Yea, that shit 

[shorty shit stain of brooklyn zu] 

It wasn't my fault you came outside without ya strap on 

Tryin to get yo mack on and niggaz took oath of possession 

Should've rolled deep, get crooked by niggaz I creap 

And catch ya when ya least expect, the hard head 

For those livin trife, it cuts like a knife 

Who choose to play dice, who choose to play dice 

It's that, this one is a money maker 

My album took that taker, I see ya nigga money and he stashin 

I caught that nigga and I had to quick react 

And blast quick, nigga tried to front, he gonna laugh at 

This type of style is hardcore, nigga tried to front 

When he what? what? move on him, what? 

But i'ma hit him with my utmost shit 

If ya can't bring death, then ya can't represent 

[chorus: buddha monk] 

Deadly is the slang from the brooklyn zu 

When we comin thru ya town, what ya niggaz gonna do? 

[dutch masta killa] 

Never carried steal, before ya got that deal 

But now ya wouldn't have got it, so now ya puffin chronic 

Two heads of drakness comin forth, there is many 

Blind once or twice, then those heads become pennys 

My swing is more deadly than a shot from yo gun 

You see I swung once, but really I swung fourth 

Just be by yo vision, now yo shit's on the floor 

Shit like that, ya can't face with plasta 

Sent niggaz back 'cause I am the dutch masta 

Kill or pylon wack-ass styles in the mud 

Minds deep in heart, this is gold wit yo gut 

It's understood, oh he be someone you can't see 

And that someone is me, too deep for you to believe 

>from the day of yo birth till ya ride in the hurse 

There's nothin that happens that could've been worse 

Let me free, atom bomb will be the final sequel 

Which all men are cremated equal 

[buddha monk] 

Never war, come back on four tracks 

Niggaz wanna test the bees, ya must be wack 

Never more, actual fact 

Comin thru with the killa bees attack 

My sword has the power to devour in any hour 

Slang cuts ya brains, now ya veins only hang 

Matter of sense, so I inflict the killa hits 

Dirty will assist with this mix, breaks mad shit 

There's is no crew that can test the 1-12 crew 

Don't let me go suu!, killa bees comin thru 

Break the war with the great and it kills with the slicin 

I come with mad sins, I'm the happy man again 

Come into my realm and I kill like the lizard palm 

Can't prevail with the tails, now ya mind dwells 

Into a dimension, no facts, only fiction 

Who's sent to this train has three sixes on their skin 

[dutch masta killa] 

Bloaw! little hare was good, was dippy 

The wild-ass hippy who always packed the heater 

Lived the good life, was praised around, the hood life 

He ran with his man from the second floor 

Livin happy, puffin on the staircase wall 

Greedy had a younger brotha, they both lived with motha 

Motha had no fatha, they both held each otha 

And prayed for the otha, greedy saw the seat 

Never knew the feat, at nite he would creap 

Was still packin heat, the planned to catch a digga 

Greedy caught the hiccups, one, two more, three 

But nosey got away, the eighty-fiver man 

Yea, he still strayed away, the clean eddie faked it 

No icepick or fist, glock or tech-nine 

He contemplated this, caught in the shootout 

His man wanted his boot out, he was caught in a trance 

He has his mask, laid out past dawn, now momma's grave missed 

[outro: dutch masta killa, (odb)] 

Comin at 'cha from every type of angle 

Ya know killa bees represent the bronx 

Queens, manhatten, all over this world 

The east coast, straight and down 

Straight out of clark's 

And all over everywhere 

Medina warriors 

(I love to hear the bees!)