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Children of the Corn - Harlem Nights lyrics
[Bloodshed]
 Yo, I'm mad vexed, give me your address
 And I'll deliver, stand and watch you shiver
 As the bullets travel through your liver
 This nigga bloodshed is mad rough
 Battling me is like jumping inside a river while you're handcuffed
 My fist is more nastier than Travel Fox
 My silhouette inside intensive care, because I like to shadowbox
 My gat makes more noise then Roman candles
 I stay in murder scandles, and dust the fingerprints of burner handles
 And I left Jehovah slain, I don't cry over pain
 Cause I puff fat dimes of novacaine
 Murder astrologist, mad cases of manslaughter
 I rape this man's daughter, then put the shit on cam corder
 Put it for sale on 2-5th and 8th
 Her pops tried to flex and bass, then the tech correct
 and spit in his face, her brother dice tried to get shiest
 So I took his life, with a knife, then asked him twice about his fucking son and wife
 After that, I load the gat and let the lead start flying
 That shit is death defying, now you need dental records to identify him
 I had beef with this Priest his name was father Clyde
 This how he died, I had seven put on his side, and fulled him with formaldehyde
 I get more high then frequencies, no one gets ass deep as me
 Your worst nightmare, don't sleep on me
 [Chorus]
 "It ain't where you're form it's where you at" - Rakim
 So when you walk through Harlem faggot watch your back
 "It ain't where you're from it's where you at" - Rakim
 So when you walk through Harlem faggot watch your back
 [Cam'Ron]
 Yo, I'm a cat with 9 live, but everyday I risk them
 Pop shots the glock at the cop and missed him now he's all up in the system
 Upstate, buying for crime, slaving the time
 My mother down here praying for mine
 Cause I'm like Snider, living one day at a time
 Harlem's a rough route, get snuffed out in a tough bout
 The streets is full of smoking guns from people getting puffed out
 I scrap them like a sculpture, living out my fucking culture
 My crews a bunch of vultures with the .38s and holsters
 And I quick to hurt a fool, cause money got that murder pullChildren of the Corn - Harlem Nights - http://motolyrics.com/children-of-the-corn/harlem-nights-lyrics.html
 And don't leave my house without the guns, mask and surgicals
 Don't tell me how I act and sound, I pack a mack and pound
 And strap them down to clap them clowns, I never seen a cap and gown
 and I'm a basketcase, I'll bash your face, and blast your waist
 In a casket trace, cause me and this bastard Mase, drop at a tragic place
 Cause uptown it ain't nothing sweet, it's just guns a grief
 Tons of beef, and little niggaz run the streets
 And pop the boots for lots of loot
 Even sell a cop a deuce, on top of roofs
 But be careful cause the glocks is loose
 And I'ma choke you like a capsule, niggaz wanna scrap? Boat
 And I'ma end the shit on that note
 [Chorus]
 "It ain't where you're form it's where you at" - Rakim
 So when you walk through Harlem faggot watch your back
 "It ain't where you're from it's where you at" - Rakim
 So when you walk through Harlem faggot watch your back
 [Big L]
 My click is quick to pull a bullet through a stranger's dome
 You should've known not to roam through the danerzone
 In Harlem is where the thugs rest
 In a slugfest, we sending faggots "All the Way to Heaven" like Doug Fresh
 Big L grow up in the slums of greed
 I'm known for drawing guns with speed, and selling tons of weed
 Cause I got sons to feed
 And it's a must that I commence to slain
 Any faggot MC that goes against the grain
 And I'ma smoke Pataki's ass and Rudolph Giuli' like a Woolie
 Keep a toolie for any moolie who act fooley
 So if a nigga disrespect L, to hell is where I'm send them
 After I skin him, And spit some venenom in him
 Run with introduers, looters and sharpshooters
 Who spark buddah and fuck thick bitches with large hooters
 Beat niggaz with lead pipes, leave trails of dead mics
 Cause where I'm from niggaz jewels get run like red lights
 Old folks get mugged and raided, crimes are drug related
 And we live by the street rules the thugs created
 Clowns get smoked about a thousand volts
 So front and get a tech shoved down your throat












