Live At The Tunnel Lyrics - Singles - Cru

My outlet is full of powerful niggas 

Electrify ya tie, spark up the lah 

Keep the room dark, let me fill out my high 

Then slap box my ghost till one of us cry 

Jae to the Won can niggas fuck around? 

And they better say nah, word to Allah 

They dyin' down I got iron now 

Run upon 'em, cock it back, tie 'em down 

If he try to move then I gotta lie him down 

From Y O a.k.a. Riot Town 

I used to buy it but I just supply it now 

Y'all used to talk but you're all quiet now 

You know what it is that really makes it scrape it 

Have a lot of cars and the lot still vacant 

And you won't stop speakin' till I leave you on the cement 

Leakin', all hot, none eatin' 

Slow down, son, you're kill 'em 

Okay, you can bring it to 'em 

Everyday, just like Mary J. 

Sippin' iced teas in the E and J 

Partyin', till your bare remain 

You're killin' 'em, okay you bring it to 'em 

Everyday, just like Mary J. 

Honeys at the bar sippin' Alaze 

Cru and Lox is your hair remain, I know you brailin' me, baby 

Yogi's in the lead, you're trailin' me, baby 

The PHd's can't compete mines is better than yours 

Then we can take it to the streets, my rum's redder than yours 

BX where the attic sniffy chalk outline 

And the clubs they shout mine, shit's about time 

Chad and Mighty Ha, key the predicate felon 

When he make bell he eat more booty than Ellen 

Who you tellin'? 

The world is mine like Esco 

If not, at least a house and Esgro 

Turnin' ghetto stars into Uncle Tom's 

Yogi, the mellow low key 

Understandin' my crew is strictly Shark Bar 

Champagne toastin' while you splittin' Clark Bars 

I'd rather be live at The Tunnel with Flex 

Then on the corner holdin' bundles, next 

Y-O's time to see the hunger in me 

And I see the same thing in niggas younger than me 

Like they live, they ain't got a slice to give 

In the broken down home and they priceless kids 

Why wouldn't it grab the gun, heist the crib 

And the never learn shit until twice their bid 

Like the world turn around funny clown money 

Everybody laugh when they have it 

What about the addict niggas that'll hustle for years 

Till they see the graveyard up at the tip 

Playin' spades, you in the world and playin' sharades 

If the wait jumped off you ain't touch a grenade 

Wanna die for the cause? Lie for the doors 

Niggas wanna play but never took time to pause 

Learned to remind and check the phat four 

Try to plug it in they wanna slice up the chords 

Yo, yo if you got the doe, B, then show me 

'Cause I'm walkin' these streets and no one know me 

It's gon' change though, with the ill strange flow 

In the 9-8 push my a black Range Rove 

I keeps the real, separate from the fake 

If I kill, yo, I'm doin' so for the cake 

Blastin' go to a distant land 

See my gun's like church to a Christian man 

It's the code of the streets no time the explain 

Free that soul on up to the next plain 

Remember the pain, two shots from the flame 

Remember the bloodstains, the cold wet rain 

Little light guys with little white lies 

We takin' out cash and flippin' big white pies 

You rather run wild with your 9 mil. slant 

You watchin' too much Stallone and Van Damme 

Yo Lox, what the fuck, what the fuck walked in here? 

Where my crew at? Wave your shit in the air 

Now bust 'em once for the niggas who ain't with you 

And jam above, show muthaphuckin' love 

We make cake but to make cake you need batter 

So it ain't kickin' that shit the beat ain't gonna matter 

Lox and Cru, el familiar to you 

So if you want it you can get the 60 shot pronto 

Sheek that kid that spit out like tobacco 

Lyrically fucked out, a fit ain't chips, we ducked out 

Won't touch out if it ain't a 7 figure route 

Aye yo, Chad papa, where that cranberry and vodka 

Let's get flicks, spit on the niggas like this 

From Y-O to B-X y'all niggas straight C. S. 

But we count the Benjamins and collect Che-X 

My begets shine on my neck like I'm flex 

Give 'em what they want, this what they lookin' for 

Y-O-G, Chadio and The Mighty Ha 

Hit 'em in data once again with buttah hits 

Baby Chris ridin' with my peeps Mark Pitts 

Comin' with the buttahs, production Y-O-G 

Grab a chickenhead, lets crack the bubbly 

Flows by the Gods cause the styles pronto 

Dayes ya go, dayes ya go