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Shyheim f/ Gutta - The Surah lyrics
[Intro: Show Stoppa]
 Yeah, shit crazy out here, man
 Nahwhatimean? We in the streets
 For real, though, we livin' the shit
 Lotta niggaz is talkin' the shit, man
 Nahwhatimean, every day is a struggle
 Feel me, uh... yeah, Show Stoppa, man
 Gutta! Aiyo
 [Show Stoppa]
 These cold thoughts got me hot sweatin'
 Pictures in my mind, blood, we tryin' hurry
 Like a center rush, I don't get it
 And I can't catch it, see when you mock me
 Life a dream, with a message, but I can't catch it
 Got me all jammed up, like burn a wall, with the hammer
 You try to pop, it's all jammed up
 Soft skin gettin' tough, and the paper got me missin' Salot
 And the paper got me pitchin' the rock
 I hate baseball, wait, y'all
 We drop bombs, hail mary, you should listen to Pac
 Mention Pac, gotta mention Biggie
 So I got a fat black hammer fam, they call it biggie
 You wishin' I give you one more chance, I ain't Biggie
 Cock that thang back, blaow, is you ready to die?
 They said he thoughtless, heartless and out of control
 But I'm a Muslim, mock me, just watchin' my soul
 Believe, Latin laha, in Allah
 No God, but Allah, and Muhammed is his messenger
 But you hot, wound up, disectin' ya
 Body all open, 26 shots'll leave ya body all open
 S.K., bisectin' ya, and the lead and shells is hot, dog
 If it's a loud beef, get ate like a hot doog
 We Muslim, and it get no realer than that
 You can't touch a Monk, man, and just look over
 And he stuck around, now I'm spillin' the gat
 Dressed in black face mask, grillin' the cafer
 I submit with to will of Allah, with no rat
 P-R-A-Y, five times a day, I put my hair down
 Seven days a week, I put my hair down
 12 months a year, all year round, muslims put they hair down
 [Shyheim]
 Whose the kid with his mugshot on the cover of the Source
 Shy show you how to rob niggaz, not in a rap song
 That's 3 minutes and 45 seconds too long
 I could hold a pale horse, blowin' a Newport short
 Nobody does it bigger than my Bottom Up niggaz
 So much coke on the street, I put Pepsi out of business
 Shove my metal in your mouth, like braces, but I'm not dentist
 Hip hop fans that listen, don't want me to finish this mischief
 I'm a little, so I'mma pray for these niggaz
 Like, Allah, please forgive 'em, for testin' Shyheim
 Cuz, he does not know that, I am a prophet
 And the pro with them two's, cuz I use, is my logic
 I'm everywhere, so keep your head up, like a Pac head
 Kill me or I'mma kill you, nigga fuck it
 [Interlude: Show Stoppa]
 Shyheim, is crazy right?
 Nahwhatimean, we for real out here, Gutta!
 [Chorus 2X: Show Stoppa]Shyheim f/ Gutta - The Surah - http://motolyrics.com/shyheim-f-gutta/the-surah-lyrics.html
 If it's beef, then it's to eat, mission that
 Before we get, homey, I keep stuff Allah
 Better ask for forgiveness, homey, y'all law
 Cuz everybody won't make it to the promissed land
 [5 Mics]
 My struggles is deep, my pain is deep
 Got me in trouble in these streets, my faith is week
 I try to stay focused, but the, pain is hell
 24 hours a day, hit a dormant cell
 I used to go to truma, duece and do 36 rock gots
 New surahs, and mad ayats
 Til my faith got it week, started hittin' the block
 Put the Koran down, just a pitch on the block
 Look at me now, Sa-tan, got me ditchin' the cops
 I know I'll probably feel of fire, when my casket drop
 Dogs, I full a stomach full of flees and birds
 When niggaz do, robberies, crush crack to crumbs
 I'm from Brooklyn, where niggaz get found in they Benz
 With the back of the medula, splashed out on the tint
 Where the money and church collide, and the gangstas ride
 They double barrel, have you ass leavin' all I can ride
 This is my turf, since young, I've been puttin' in work
 Survive, I guess, like throwback jersey shirts
 Five beat a nigga, that'll twist your ride
 I'm hood, crooked teeth, niggaz what the fifth's about
 Eat your food, have you shittin' out, like hillbillies
 Chew tobacco, my ocks be, spittin' out
 Leave you stretched in your truck, with your braids in the back
 I'm from Brooklyn, nigga, I was trained with the gat
 Lived my live in the streets, I know about homicide
 How to hustle, and bang, when the drama ride
 Pitch crack on the block, where the G's be at
 Rock Timbs, army fatigues, ski masks and hats
 Oh Allah, why do my pain, gotta be so harsh
 I never destined to be hood, and thrown in cop cars
 Gutta, Bottom Up, Shyheim, walk with me
 [Bucks]
 Ever since the days of playin' the dirt
 Been through it, jeans, things you never in, up in my knees in it
 Cop a bird, and wing it, the work, debris spinach
 Tappin' the surah, til the fans and them in it
 I excede the limit, put the weed in the middle
 With a crack batch, lit it, sever my peritheal vision
 Seen myself diminish, and use a cannon
 When my shit touchin', clear up your aim and kitchen
 But I ain't, gettin' it, so the sound of you doing dishes
 Sit up it, like some Latin bangin' pursuin' the vicious
 Continous when I picture it, where Allah fit 'em
 When you try to get it, and where do the law fit in
 And when will it stop, I don't make, I just break the rules
 Reasons for me to make, will do a dent
 Officer Lat, academics for the things I do
 When I'm too busy with the things I do
 And it's becoming a problem, how I'mma say the beef is so loud
 When they conflict, stutter from some mirage shit
 The consequences, the end of a long clip
 Long trip to the trauma center, you harm a Muslim
 I even look, long at a sister
 I'm tellin' you, it's the wrong decision
 Pull heat, put it til you put a hole in the center, I know I'm a sinner
 That's the least I can do, nigga













