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street music - dj capital lyrics

[intro: blaklez]
yeah
dj capital
blaklez
aah yes!
whoa!

[verse 1: blaklez]
hope you forgive me for my f*ck ups
i get on my knees and the devil say “shut the f*ck up” (whoa!)
who shot the block up?
all we heard was blaka*blaka
the fiends they got love for that white, like uncle ruckus (whoa!)
real n*gga, diabetes to a sucker
chip on your shoulder, stick up kids at how you stuck up (whoa!)
mr. muscle better think before you touch us (whoa!)
my dirty n*ggas have your face locked in your supper
waiting to get on stage, tell your favourite rapper wrap it up (whoa!)
ice grilled, smoke in the air, i’m holding half a dutch
i’ll tell you this, there’s a reason i don’t like rappers much
doin’ all that tweetin’ but don’t be rappin’ much
i told you, small time player, come let me coach you (whoa!)
you silver spoon kids couldn’t relate to what we go through
the hustle is advance but the realness from the old school (okay)
keep my pockets discrete (sshh!), i’m never boastful (whoa!)

[interlude: neil mccauley]
a guy told me one time…
“don’t let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner.”
“now, if you’re on me and you gotta move when i move, how do you expect to keep a… a marriage?”
that’s an interesting point

[verse 2: blaklez]
whoa!
this is music for the streets bro
somebody tell these motherf*ckers i’m in beast mode
chasing c*notes, ain’t no cars getting repo’ed
a guinea pig to your queen, she learning how to deep throat
you boys ain’t saying nothin’, you all sound corny
you wake up and go grind, you drink the whole d*mn morning
rappers claim they got the crown!
better hold that for me
i snap on 16s, that’s a young kodak moment (whoa!)
disrespectful youngins from my city are my favourites
they yap*yap, hope i talk back, i don’t say sh*t
the whole game twisted, real talk, let’s face it
your favourite rapper showing off chains, on that slave sh*t (whoa!)
don’t sleep, on me, i k!ll your team
that means you, your ghostwriters and your broskis
i smoke you, make you switch names, no stogie
it’s respect, gotta pay homage to the ogs (whoa!)

[outro: verbal]
the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist
and like that, poof. he’s gone

- dj capital lyrics

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