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(Intro: Prodigal Sunn) |
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Chitty chitty bang bang, bang, bang |
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Chitty chitty.. |
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(Chorus 2X: Prodigal Sunn) |
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I make you jump jump, bang this shit |
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High or low, out your trunk-trunk |
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Spit that raw, give 'em |
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Give 'em, give 'em, what they want |
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Pumpin' and thumpin' and dumpin' |
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It's a manhunt, yo, it's a manhunt |
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(Prodigal Sunn) |
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Yeah, we get it crunk like Lil' Jon and them Eastside Boyz |
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Them Brooklyn boys, G-O-D-Z, up in Tonka toys |
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Thirty mil' team, hand gleem, filled chips a'hoy |
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Self employed, get it from Evon and Peter Roy |
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Lumbers and heaters, jumpin' out the Z2 seaters |
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Rockin' Louie with them Gucci sneakers, live in Cheetah's |
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Don't get it twisted, stay lifted, keep the metal biscuit |
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The grand wizard chameleon lizard, New York Blizzard |
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Live as can be, live on stage in Tennessee |
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Makin' that legal tender, seein' our dough, drink the Hennessey |
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Son, you fake, you not a friend of me, not even a can-it-be |
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You about to catch a John F. Kennedy |
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Then I escape through the assembly, ghost from the vecinity |
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Vacant my suite, flash bring scenery |
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Typical moves for you pitiful dudes |
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Cupcakes and corn flakes, it ain't no love without hate |
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(Chorus 2X) |
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(Prodigal Sunn) |
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A thoroughbred since a young shorty, guzzlin' '40's |
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The forty-five on the right side, ready to ride |
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Do or die, Bedstuy, where heads fly, you don't ask why |
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Do the knowledge, add it up and apply |
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Some last words from my dying uncle, stay focused, get that cash |
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Stay on the lookout, for triggers in masks |
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Move smart, blend with the dark, roll with men of heart |
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And every beast, shall play they part, young God |
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Mmmm.... meditated, for a minute, high set it off |
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The green splendid, knew what he was sayin', knew he really meant it |
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Survive on the street, you liable meat |
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Be a grown man, son, stand on your own two feet |
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It's real, from the gun to the grain, hustle my name |
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Too many stress and high, coming in son; I already came |
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Muscle the game, stay clear, of them lames and dames |
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Split hits campaign, like Rick James on cocaine |
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(Chorus 2X) |
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(12 O'Clock) |
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I do it to the death, dudes don't know |
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It be the nine or the tech, get the bread then we step |
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Got the handle like A.I., with his left |
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Young police thinkin' they Elliott Ness |
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Til they get popped in they chest |
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Throw the burner to ya neck, dude, dare you to flex |
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See you girly ass dudes, I lift up your dress |
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Got that criminal mind, like I'm Luther, the Lex |
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Want my CREAM lookin' long, when you writin' them checks |
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Be a rebel to the game like Inspectah Deck |
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12 O'Clock, starts today, do ends in the morn' |
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When my bust in hers, see a star was born |
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Brooklyn, Brooklyn, dudes that's where I'm from |
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Get a nasty ass chick, like to swallow my gum |
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C-walking down my block, not knowing nobody, that's crazy |
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Even if your gun got bodies |
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Got a man with a pitbull, one eye, call him Shock! |
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(Hook: Prodigal Sunn) |
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We got bangers that gon' feel this, the gritty grindz |
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We got hangers that gon' love this, gritty grindz |
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I'm in the hood, baby, all the time, gritty grindz |
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Get yours, cuz I'mma get mine, the gritty grindz |
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(Chorus 2X) |
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(Outro: Prodigal Sunn) |
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The gritty grindz! |
