Onslaught 2 Lyrics - Fatman Scoop

Yeah, I said, "Once upon a time in a city that's mine" 

There was a nigga named Nickel that spit like Big in his prime 

He got a 52 box, original tick in the mind 

Listenin' to 'Pac and them drop with a prestigious design 

My niggaz is dimes, my bitches is dimes 

I came up behind Eminem in '99 and I took the baton 

I been runnin' shit ever since then, slaughtered MC's 

Sit and watchin' my green grow like I'm waterin' seeds 

The problem with me is I'm the heart of the streets 

Niggaz callin' for peace, they can't even call the police 

If I ain't better than you I'm harder to beat 

Probably 'cause I live by the art of for keeps 

I get indicted after my product's released 

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We a different form, a different centrifugal force 

Every line is like grippin' on a stick shift in a Porsche 

My niggaz asked for direction to go on this track 

I said, "Fuck a direction, spaz out, get 'em up high" 

Crooked and for them wack songs that you made 

I want you to throw your pin, but hold the grenade 

Explode to your grave and go straight to hell 

When your soul is en-flamed for the road that you paved 

The role that played, in fuckin' up hip-hop 

You owe so you paid, the fo'-fo' close to your brain 

Closer than the close shave of a low fuckin' fade 

Don't fuck with me, don't fuck with J O E 

With Nickel we gon' make more cheese 

Heavy hitter, call me Joell David Ortiz 

I point a burner at the plaque on your teeth 

On some leftover shit, it's a wrap on the beef 

Photos 

I'm one in a mil', comin' to kill 

It's like you wanting a pill, my gun put your back on the streets 

Spine on the concrete lookin' at the sun 

Eyelids heavy, "Why did Crooked have to come?" 

He was full of 'gnac and rum, like a bully actin' dumb 

Fully automatic umm, that's Crooked havin' fun 

Listen, don't make a nigga find your dame 

And make the dime give me brains 'til my mind is drained 

Listen, don't make me grab a 9 and aim 

And how your dime did me, do yo' mind the same 

But different, the West Coast king Crooked I 

I'm a kamikaze pilot, I stay fly 'til I die, get 'em up high 

Joell, here we go again, you know I'm him, Mr. Ortiz 

Soon as I hold a pen I co-defend the sickest MC's 

Pick a disease we got it, I vomit sniffle and sneeze 

Lyrics squeeze, listen please, Lord, help get rid of this fever 

I'm like 150 degrees 

16's used to be sweet, now they're a bit of a tease 

A nigga need a infinite instrumental just to be pleased 

Used to dream about livin' now I'm livin' my dreams 

The bitches fiend, made my dick a machine 

Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I am just as fuckin' big as I seem 

When I'm spittin' this mean, me and government intervene 

A couple presidents, literally live in my jeans 

I give 'em residence, they just let me pick anything 

When I'm in the mall, they show me the latest kicks on the scene 

And I get 'em all, I ball like the nigga I am 

Niggaz hate, bitches cheer like Norm, Cliff and Diane 

I'm in a state, of mind that should be the fifty verse 

I run radio but I don't use them itty bitty words 

I ain't shabby with the nouns, I ain't shitty with the verb 

When I reach heaven I want the nigga Biggie to be like word 

City slicker, New York delivery when I swerve 

Hold that mic like the Statue of Liberty, I deserve 

A shot at the title, spitter of the year, every year, let's be clear 

Put some fingers in the air and hold 'em up high 

Joey, work on your half-court shot, I'm money from far 

Get 'em mad, see a ape on your monkey bars 

And that's rate, gettin' hate from the wannabe stars 

And that's great, mean he feel it and know he numb 

See that bullet comin' from around the corner 

Like a shot from Angelina Jolie's gun, think Joey the one 

I'm a fake, ain't your run of the mill? 

I'm from where they kill you for one of your bills 

For me it's fun, your man think we evenly skilled 

He Mel Gibson, all that shit he believe, gon' get his son killed 

Play with a match, fuck what you take it as 

No good straight jacket, all I did break the match 

They say he talk tough with his fake ass 

Four pounds put me in another weight class 

Great Escape the pad 

Took the jumpsuit off my naked ass and ate the mask 

You diss me, you wanna be a great that fast? 

Take a fully automatic and spray at gas 

Me? Body a whole shit with a verse probably atrocious 

In your whole camp, nobody focused 

They say you the Ultimate Warrior, I agree 

You die and come back, won't nobody know this 

Drive by, screamin' it's a new crew reppin' 

Hangin' out the window, like it's 227, get 'em up high 

Get 'em up high, get 'em up high 

Get 'em up high, get 'em up high 

Get 'em up high in the sky 

Put 'em up high, put 'em up high 

Put 'em up high, fingers in the sky 

Put 'em up, Slaughterhouse, Slaughterhouse 

Ohh, ohh, Fatman Scoop, Slaughterhouse 

Fatman Scoop, Slaughterhouse 

Put 'em high, woo, ohh