Sour Diesel Songtext / Lyric

Say another muthafuckin' word, and this shit is over

And I ain't playing, nigga

Now, you ain't got no gun

But where the weed at?

This is what it is right? Word, yeah

This is what it's about, this is how it's going down?

Aiyo, I'm raw like Kane, blood stain the game

Revenge of the 9th Prince, selling like cocaine

Nobody knows my pain, strain on the brain

Last nigga fronted, they found him slain

In the gutter, niggas is slipping like butter

That's when I heard a utter, shut-shut the muthafucka

I can't help it, the flow is so dangerous

Ya'll the most lameless, living shameless

Check out my guest watch, the diamonds on the bezel make the best watch

Pray that you will know the time just like a clock

I want Jay-Z and Lil' Wayne's spot

I was always taught, hip hop was an art, so play it smart

Sour diesel niggas get high everyday

Niggas in the projects, every day, every way

Said, sour diesel niggas get high everyday

Project niggas, every day, every way

You want a chick like mines, a whip like mines

A four-fifth with a kit, that look like mines

That look like mines, he want a piece of the pie

You want to go to Cinderella's and throw ones in the sky

But you can't be I, big S-H-Y

Got crazy niggas on payroll, like S.S.I.

Think he really want drama, for the rest of your life

It ain't easy, being greasy, my neezy, believe me

I got felonies, nigga, got Big L in me nigga

So the cells in me, nigga, people taking my picture

The young God fisher, Bottom Up Militia

Getting richer and richer, and I'm a Staten Island nigga

Should just be you, cuz you can't be

Bottom Up C.E.O., L.E.O. VP

Bottom Up C.E.O., L.E.O. VP

I'm Bottom Up C.E.O., L.E.O. VP

Ya'll must be blowing that sour, or sniffing that powder

You see the Black Market logo, my flow is the foulest

Spit in the face of cowards, drink Henny from a chalice

My strength that just, shake the walls of the palace

And I'm cut from the heavenly cloth, rose bearers

Drop petals at my feet when I walk

You know I carry that cross, kiss the ring and the boss

For snitch that wanna talk, yeah that things go off

You start to feel no remorse for the lies that's lost

Now you sing a sawed-off, that'll rip your limbs off

The homicide on the scene, yeah you line it in chalk

Buried in Ku Klux, while they still holding the pitchfork

Aiyo, live with the Prince of New York, the Pale Horse

And now he lit with his torch, burn diesel and never cough

Now I'm sitting in court, for aggrivated assault

Bitches asses, left the hospital on life support, come on