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fifty wayz (street opera mix clean) - gooch lyrics

gooch ft. kool g rap * “fifty wayz (street opera mix)”
[emcee(s): gooch and kool g rap]
[producer(s): kutmasta kurt]

[verse 1: gooch]
yeah, f*ck it
i’m from the city that never sleeps, so how can i sleep?
when, every week, there’s a freak sweating athletes in
new jeeps. ain’t the type to roll in cherokee, my style
is something darely in the hills of beverly merrily
s*class in mint condition. to call me indecent
proposal with my million*dollar propositions? listen
i feed thoughts like i was hitler, i’m out to hit ya
no matter who’s standing with ya, i’m out to get ya
you say you wanna leave? you’re leaving now? just leave us
thanks to jesus, i received more bread than [?]
it’s, like, today, n*ggas don’t like to [?]
(ay, n*gga, where you from?) i’m from the city where the form’s at
i’m getting dirty looks from top cops like they wanna
stop, pop at me ‘cause i’m in a beemer top*drop
and be a nice guy for what? n*ggas been k!lling
every day, but now, like mary kay, i wanna makeup?
wake up, i put the ak to the first n*gga that say, “hey”
back up and call for “mayday”—sh*t, why not? that’s how all they play
if you get me, you better get me ‘cause, if y’all don’t get me
i swear to god i’m taking all you motherf*ckers with me

[hook: kool g rap]
there’s fifty
ways to die, n*gga, step it up and choose one ‘cause n*ggas
out there in the streets don’t give a f*ck where you from, and ain’t
a motherf*cking bullet prejudiced in my gun. there’s fifty
ways to die, n*gga, step it up and choose one

[interlude: kool g rap]
yo, yo, yo, what’s up, kid? what? them n*ggas is fronting, kid? (i’m ready to see you) whatever, kid, man. i don’t give a f*ck, son, know’m saying?

[verse 2: kool g rap]
late at night
11pm, we’re three*deep with heat, ready to
see him. he pulled up in a black bm. we tucked
the chin, seen him—no escape, no running nor no fleeing
ran to the driver’s side and put three in. through the dark
tinted windows, i see him bleeding, leaking, lungs wheezing
and barely breathing, died up in icu the next evening
but we don’t murder without no reason, we get the trigger
squeezing, this was [?] for committing treason. that sh*t was
out of season, out of blindside. take the glock, take the fifth
and put it in his stash spot. son, here come the mad cops
i see that same one from that last head*drop. bury that heat
down in that big grass lot. f*ck them b*tch*ass cops
we ain’t getting knocked—yo, that sh*t wack. i see that
foul snake conversating with jake, hope he ain’t trying to
perpetrate. yo, son, that n*gga be fake, deflate, had nerve
to show his face up in my man wake. jakes about to jinx him
word up, son, if that n*gga stunt, yo, i’ma have to sting him
run up on him and bang him with the motherf*cking ingram
you know how we do: the crime way, the nine way
massacre sh*t like valentine’s day

[hook: kool g rap] (x2)
there’s fifty
ways to die, n*gga, step it up and choose one ‘cause n*ggas
out there in the streets don’t give a f*ck where you from, and ain’t
a motherf*cking bullet prejudiced in my gun. there’s fifty
ways to die, n*gga, step it up and choose one

[bridge: kool g rap]
there’s fifty
ways to die, n*gga. die, n*gga
die, n*gga. die, n*gga

[outro: kool g rap]
no motherf*cking doubt, boy
g rap holding it down, kool g rap is four*pound
jinx, you lay it down. n0body make a sound, nah’mean?
underworld crime from new york, baby

- gooch lyrics

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