Songtext After birth Hell Razah

After birth

[Intro: Hell Razah]
You know what I'm about to do to these niggaz right? (Razah Rubiez)
Yeah

[Hell Razah:]
I been had a Paul Wall grill in ninety eight
Y'all going bananas and grapes, but this ain't Bathin' Apes (nah)
I'm like an army, and holdin' ten times my weight
We don't indulge in hate only cause there's dough to make (GET MONEY)
I need a bigger safe, more guns than dinner plates
Tell the Lord I'm straight with faith he can close the gates
I reverse the psychology of Norman Bates (I'm going crazier)
Y'all making mixtapes and damn near pushin' forty (look at these niggaz)
I'm on some Uncle Paulie, street version of Barry Gordy
Another bad shorty caught up into having orgies (Damn)
They kiss my pinky ring and sing when they come before me
Keep seeing Q pushin' Bishop off that top story
They want Biggie's fame, Jay's spot and Pac's glory (damn)
You ain't a role model, you just a dead junkie
You wanna throw on a doo-rag and Red Monkey's (ha, ha, ha)
I'm breaking bread counting money from another country
And if the fed's want me tell dem niggaz bounty hunt me (come and get me)
Cause I ain't turnin' myself in, I drop gems
Until I'm up in that top ten with Rakim's
Slick Rick, Razah Rubiez, KRS-One, Kane (I said)

[Chorus: Hell Razah w/ ad-libs]
Life is a gamble the way it go round
You now trapped in the sound of the Renassiance Child
They surround me with love, for the way I get down
You see the real respect real, I already been crowned
You just a slave with a deal son, y'all niggaz is clowns
You just a slave with a deal son, these niggaz is clowns

[Hell Razah:]
What's all the beefin y'all releasin on these dvd's?
When you ain't got shit to write about to teach these seeds
You'se a Protool emcee without no plug-ins
Your connects get shut off and y'all not buzzin'
Niggaz necks get cut off if I'm not grubbin'
We came from project dungeons to rappin' in London
Built the fanbase up in Kuwait for mixtapes
Get cake like Columbian thugs that ship weight
Been great since eighty-eight jams and milk crates
Fans fell for ya hooks and ya lines that's fishbait
It's not hate just them killers that's real, you spit fake
Get a deal and turn Micro-Soft like Bill Gates
Gotta hire more security still to feel safe?
Run in ya room whenever it show an illstate
Take notes it's the Renassiance Child
And remember my style
Cause when you floss you get be-headed for crowns
You might as well put on a night gown and tight lingerie
The way y'all homo videos be looking today
Tell ya stylist to put you in some hoodie's and Timbs
Instead of hiding in ya Benz, you could visit ya friends (ha, ha, ha)

[Chorus: w/ ad-libs]

[Outro: Hell Razah]
Take this shit man
We ain't got much time left man
There's no more games to be playing
It's reality