If Words Could Kill — текст песни

Playtime’s over…

And you a bitch ass nigga…

For real… fam this, fam that…

Ban that… nigga please…

Aiyo, the truth is, these niggas is ruthless

Keep guns in they gooses, like razor blade convicts, I’m goofing

You snoozing, you losing, I came to this conclusion

The streets keep it moving

You stand still, or wait for no man to get his weight up

It’s like your first day up north, your face is getting ate up

Buck fifty smile, you think you look good cut, come on, man…

You call that keeping it real? I call my pretty face, guarding my grill

You get locked, you starting squeal

Eating ya face, you starting to kneel

Bow to the king, young prince… yo.

If words could kill, you would be dead

If these lyrics was bullets that be loaded in my head

And my head was the clip, my mouth was the barrel

I’d spit this shit at you, til you laying in the gravel

If words could kill, you would be dead

But they can’t, that’s why I got the snub to ya head

I’m bout to rock you to sleep, make a child go to bed

Infrared all at your head, I remember doing business with the dred

In the heart of the Bed-Stuy, do or die, who am I?

Dom P., from the Killarmy

Remember back, when I used to drop bombs continently

Ain’t nothing changed, same thing, different day

No image to potray, I’m just real

I bust them things, plus I still kick them fly ass verses

From '96 to 2−04, leaving asses in herses

You blast, if you move first, who get blasted the worsest?

Dom P., who would of thought I’d get cash from my verses

I remember when I used to get my cash snatching purses

Cop a slice of pizza, then, smoke a bag and be nervous

I remember when I used to think that rapping was worthless

Now I can’t stop, it seem like it’s a bad ass curse

I got a fetish for it, like I do a bad ass nurse

I had to realize, I had to put the business first

It’s only natural, to come up with an ill ass verse

But only right, to get the current, forward is first

Shit’s real when you got babies, three albums, still in the projects

It ain’t gravy, it’s like slavery, Dom P., is like the navy

From underwater to the top of the charts, with no maybes