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letra de danger - dj kay slay

[intro: young buck]
yeah
it’s the unit, n-ggas
it’s buck, n-gga
the captain of the motherf-ckin’ ship, n-gga
salute to the whole god d-mn state of new york
you n-ggas know what time it is
nah, f-ck that, i’m goin’ first, n-gga

[verse 1]
you p-ssy n-ggas go and put this in your purse, n-ggas
real k!llas, hey 50, look, we done birthed n-ggas (woo)
them bring that 40 glock to church n-ggas
get on your knees, pray to allah and go and murk n-ggas
potatoes on the barrel, duct tapin’ these big clips
when we together you know how bl–dy this sh-t gets
it’s been a while since n-ggas been stabbed on tv
now bet and mtv happy to see me
the unit, by now you n-ggas should be used to it
i guess i gotta play the tape back and let you view it
take these bullets out this k back and let you do it
take these brick walls and see if you can shoot through it
positivity didn’t build the statue of liberty
i’m all in brooklyn, bustin’ my gun, hidin’ my ident-ty
re-in’ up on heron in harlem, it ain’t no tenor key
cashville country n-gga, look what queens done to me

[verse 2: uncle murda]
oh, somebody ’bout to die, i could feel it, n-gga (woo)
i got a bag for my shooters to go and k!ll a n-gga (bang, bang)
headshots when they pull them sticks out (woo)
mexico still gettin’ them bricks out (whoa)
free el chapo, they still traffickin’
he ain’t die when you hit him, he gotta get clapped again (shoot ’em again)
mask on, no face, no case (woo)
the pastor at his funeral looked like ma$e (haha)
these false prophets is gettin’ younger
y’all keep givin’ ’em your money, y’all dumber and dumber (stupid)
i got the work on the stove next to the cornbread
plottin’ on my opps, i want ’em all dead

[verse 3: don q]
i remember days when i couldn’t remember days (what else?)
livin’ so fast them memories tend to fade
back in my beginnin’ stage (uh huh), way before the hype
holy water on my neck so i pray with all my ice (yup)
i made up for the nights i couldn’t pay for mama lights
it was shade like barry white or either take us on a heist, yeah
n-ggas jokers that i never interacted with (never)
never switched my tactics, get the bag and rip the plastic (sh-t)
five hour trips, put the addy in the navi sh-t (what up?)
now it’s power trips, put the caddy down the cali strip
so watch me, i’m too potent, ziplock me
my reality ain’t the tv, they couldn’t love & hip hop me, nah

[bridge: dj kay slay]
hip-hop the culture, this thing of ours
started in the streets of new york city
and spread worldwide
a platform for us kids in the ghetto to have a voice
and express ourselves
however we chose to
you see, you can’t judge anyone
if you never walked in their shoes before
and unless you’re willin’ to buy them some new shoes to walk in
then you need to shut the f-ck up

[verse 4: trick trick]
i grew up with them n-gga
that performed them gang rituals
woulda presumed it was for residuals, pitiful enough
it was just so one of us could hammer the throwaway
and bust another one of us for geological preference
ideological adolescents, hood investments
i thank the most high for ogs that demonstrated reverence and respect
and relevance was a death to new faces
seemingly out of place throwin’ rocks at the penitentary
could they stop us? eventually
basketball scores and placement
n-gga bumped you to the pavement
who woulda thought a trip to the bas-m-nt
would pan out a young black man’s life wasted
so just in case we planned ahead
swearin’ to the man upstairs
anything against us (dead)
time comes for somethin’ you said
it’s ’99 when you f-cked with the feds
f-ck that sh-t

[verse 5: tony yayo]
me and jesus got somethin’ in common
he lugged a big cross
fish poppin’ out the porsche
lookin’ like jaws
diamonds from the district leavin’ no flaws
marble floors, bartender wh0r-s (yeah)
premeditated wars have you up north (yeah)
i’m teflon cut, n-ggas velvet soft
friends turned foes, now it all make sense
’cause some hoes fight harder than they pimps
ya feel me?
hit the shepherd and the sheep afraid
turn his suv into swiss cheese
i turned the maybach benz on
pockets all fat, boy, see more checks than dre mom
fake gangsters behind computers
g5 takin’ off like max julien

- dj kay slay

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