Shyheim - One Life To Live (feat. PR Terrorist, T.M.F.) Lyrics
f/ Dom PaChino, T.M.F.Intro: Shyheim (T.M.F. #2)Twenty-seven (Yea, yea, yea, yea)Wu-Tang (Stapleton, Killarmy)Shyheim (T.M.F., Trife the under structure)Word (What's the deal, baby?)[Shyheim]Yo, for the one-nine-nine-nine shit's gon' changeNow it's us in the Range, God's givin us brainsPlay the game, put my heart into it, you stupid?I'm a gunner, whenever I got the rock I'll shoot it (BLAOW! BLAOW!)The undisputed champion on the M-I-CBeen Wu-Tang before it became a production companyStay fresh like Doug, I run with the thugsthat'll cut your throat and sell your bloodFifty/fifty love around the borderShould be biddin five to fifteenOn the Strength for the way I manslaughterRock your girl's boat like the TitanicMan, I got more numbers than the Ninex, plus the Bell AtlanticMore hoes than forty-deuceMore clothes than twenty cleptos could boostI'm not havin itI bring it to your label, producer and your managementMan, I'm like the Feds, I bring down your establishmentUnder the Rico, I purchased my 3rd quarterly from Bob CitoGot your block locked like the Dred, Mike Z and ChinoYou know (What? What?)[T.M.F. #1]Look me eye-to-eye and see what you findA crime nigga, nine spitter, mind digga, refinedPower impact, crackin your spine, mankindBlow off the surface like landmines in my pasttimeI saw it all, had plenty broadsCut your wig short like Demi MooreGhost, vanished, most motha*****as don't know I'm half spanishHazardous lyrical tactics, pinned to the matress like canvasGet your ass kicked for talkin backwardsPuffin Backwoods, walkin thru the back of the hoodNo protection, Stapleton sectionCorrupt life, T.M.F. arch style, we rush mic'sDisarmed for that gold-piece charmRed alert, we all alarmed, ready for combatNo contact, countin backwards ten-to-oneNow let me launch that, no way you can catch my formatI'm like the Gingerbread Man, movin on landCatch me if you can, I move faster than the average manChorus: Shyheim {2XYou only got one life to liveSo all of my children, it's better to give than receiveLife is short, Days of Our Lives seem to speedStill waitin for the day when Clinton legalize weed[Dom PaChino a.k.a. P.R. Terrorist]It's like gunplay when my darts sprayLeave you scarred today, mental washed awayI shoot like Hardaway, your body parts decayslow-lay, too busy lustin the Rol-ay, platinum faceI snatch you over-arms, I take you out of spaceTake you into my orbit, Terrorist gone corporateChoppin tracks into sawdust, son, so you could snort itin the conference room, Terrorist Hymn comin soonAlbum cover pitch-black like the sky, without the moonto illuminate, in my dome-piece there lies a metal plateTitanium, harder than a lock in your gateBurglarize your enterprise and have fun with your mateCuz I'm not nasty, when doin my dirt, won't see ya masta meSilent Weapons is a classic like Freddy BasseyWhat a word pro, electro, grenade logoForever show how I firmly handle the phono*****es lust me, my plans of wettin the seeds in the mo-moTerrorist relatin to Shy, mi vida loco (I feel the same way)[T.M.F. #2]Yo, yo, yo, yoEh yo, treasury, stackin this paper for LongevityThe money first, put it in work, that be my pedigreeLet's take it to higher degreeSit back and visualize so our eyes could seeBlack God, we livin hardMugs get scarred, thugs get barredTreated like slaves in the yardPlayin the field, most niggas tell and squealThat's why I move for 'self, only me and my steelCuz Shit Iz Real and leary niggas will rat you outGet under pressure by the jakes when they smack 'em outGat in they mouth, for talkin, you sleep-walkinCan't play the street often, become a victim for extortionfor your fortune, your bank roseStank hoes, you think I ain't cold?Run up in your crib, take everything, even the sink goesYou sweat like a pink roseCan you smell it, when you soft like velvet?Catch one up in your helmet, get dealt witOn the quick-fast, take you on a great adventure like Six FlagsSpent every day of my life just tryin to get cashSo when my shit blastsDuck behind buildings for shelter, or you'll get hit fastCatch whiplash, *****in wit Trife, you must've skipped classYour *****-ass didn't take notes, infra-red scope beaminI'm tired of dreamin, I wanna hit the big screen andbut keep an open eye for them cats who stay schemin*irish folk song*
