Bleed for Me - Vinnie Paz, Blacastan, Zilla

Yo, I ain’t even countin' bars man, you know what I’m sayin'?

(Yeah!) I’m just going!

Shit… Check… Uh!

Yo, introducin' the illest spic, Zilla rip your heart out quick (Uh-huh)

I put a dart out with Paz and make the whole world sick (Let's go)

That boom bap, snatch a rapper with my glue-like grip

I’m the equivalent of Bruce Lee (Waaah!) if he write this

I smack fire out the mic all day, Sinister Groove shit

(Ooh-wops) is cocked and fightin' you on my cruise ship (Let's go)

Welcome to the planet where average niggas’ll bruise quick

We can get it raw, call it usin' Rhythm and Blues Fist (Yea)

See I’mma monster, lock-jaws, pop-fall (POP! POP! POP!)

Rounds in the air, the block know it as black

They tried to say that I was destined to fail

Until I made my city question who could bring it as real

No deal, no dice;

ain’t no luxury here (Uh-huh)

Instead, it’s kill or be killed (killed) and I ain’t writin' a will (Nah!)

So despite all the bullshit, nonsense, setbacks (yea)

I’m 'bout to show the world the way a victory feel (yea that’s right)

Me?

I’m stuck on some hood shit (That's some hood shit)

My cousin clap a nigga quick, your whole melon get split (split)

One shot, Why waste the whole clip?

(A whole clip?)

A wood tip, my flow order niggas out of order thinkin' they’re the shit (Yea)

Fuck a ounce, grab a brick, break it down, flood the strip

Watch the law 'cause they always tryna see who doin' shit

Question: Why niggas say they still affiliate with?

I don’t need fake friends when I’m dealing with shit

You can’t trust 'em, fuck 'em (fuck 'em), get 'em away quick (yea)

Before they start snitchin' (snitchin') and get you locked up quick (You bitch

niggas)

I bang a nigga, I ain’t the type to drop kick

Rainy days, dark nights;

I still make a profit

They be really dressin' all black like they was gothic

Cry in the river like Justin over your casket

I’m always lookin' ahead, never dwellin' on bad shit (Uh-huh)

I never hold work Sino make it fast, bitch

This the O.K.

Corral, everybody’s hands in the air

(*Click-Clack*) We fixin' to shut it down

Where the jewels and the paper at?

Never a diplomat

Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town

It’s the O.K.

Corral, everybody’s hands in the air

(*Click-Clack*) We fixin' to shut it down

Where the jewels and the paper at?

Never a diplomat

Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town — Come on!

Every single rhyme I write make a buildin' collapse

It go from cell to cell, you can feel the synapse

Matter fact, I let Blac' and Zill' kill 'em with that

Three motherfuckers, three of the illest in rap

We Treacherous Three, that was the pillar of rap

Then Kool Moe Dee made it guerilla to rap

He went at LL, went at his feelings in fact

And at the same time brothers was dealin' with crack

Killin' 'em Softly, Slaine was the villain in that (Slaine you my brother)

Kenny Gill, Vinnie real, he still is intact

You analog, I’m digital and I’m feelin' the dat

I’ve been raw, Tim Dog — Penicillin On Wax (R-I-P!)

Poor Righteous Teacher 'cause I’m dealin' with facts

What’s the price of reefer when you dealin' with math

Punchin' a sucker rapper, maybe I’m guilty for that

He just another rapper, y’all know my feelings on that

Chauvinistic, misogynistic, in every spot I visit

Bitches get twisted, my G is simplistic (haha)

Even fat bitches get crushed too… 'cause I’m optimistic

Director’s chair, life is like a motion picture (nigga!)

The scene from The Godfather, beat ya like Sunny’s sister

Apocalypse Now, Black Hawk Down

Nigga’s talk loose now, but they softer than goose downs

I’m payin' no attention, layin' low like the Benz suspension

Crazily slept on, but still get an honorable mention

Prophetical, last man standin' like The Book of Eli

Lost in Italy, I’m trynna to find a pair of felines

Back to the States where the steaks is great

Feelin' the hate, leavin' 'em bleedin' like females menstruate

Death to those who chose to throw arrows at the Pharaohs

Incineratin' your block, douse you with the Tommy Gun barrels

Official Pistol Gang, bangin' guns like Al-Qaeda — What?!

This the O.K.

Corral, everybody’s hands in the air

(*Click-Clack*) We fixin' to shut it down

Where the jewels and the paper at?

Never a diplomat

Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town

It’s the O.K.

Corral, everybody’s hands in the air

(*Click-Clack*) We fixin' to shut it down

Where the jewels and the paper at?

Never a diplomat

Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town — Come on!