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(feat. Gee-Banga) [Gee-Banga (Ced Gee):] Uhh, this real New York shit right here man You already know Kool Keith, Gee-Banga let's go (Ced Gee, Ultra, uhh) Uhh, uhh, yo, yo I wanted keys in my collection, so I loaded bullets in my weapon Put on my gear, gun in my hand, prepare for this 187 See I'm a hustler, not a murderer But if you get on my fuckin nerves then I'm gon' have to murder ya Badder than stores that's from the Saudia{?} Pull out my tec, gunnin yout neck execution style and just slaughter ya Cookin them cracks that you be coughin up Really don't give a fuck about family or who you the son of daughter of You gon' really make me have to torture ya But that's my second name in the hood, you can call me the extortion G to the Danger is the enforcer of, G.K.B. and gangster shit that the streets could ever offer ya I always been less fortunate; so I fuck bitches Party and drink and blow that sticky to get up off of it When in reality you the talk of it So don't be surprised me cock back and be demandin you take off your shit Letras de canciones[Chorus: Gee-Banga] This is war, son you know we always packin that 4 And we puttin bullets straight through your door Plus we stayin on point cause we don't wanna fall If you get caught slippin you'll get killed for sure - brrrap! This is war, son you know we always packin that 4 And we puttin bullets straight through your door Plus we stayin on point cause we don't wanna fall If you get caught slippin you'll get killed for sure [Kool Keith:] I'm international, worldwide traveller beyond that block shit You hear about it, y'all can't avoid it when I drop shit It's like takin a fat-ass sumo wrestler out with a dropkick You get they rap careers started, my job is stop shit Piss on anything y'all spit Door #1, I can play Bob, Barker Your bitch can't bid here Better stay with the cock she picked, with sauce on her lip boss I fuck up your lip gloss Get your handicap games out nigga, cause you gonna limp across Like a slow man in the street Y'all niggaz put up your umbrellas up Nobody wanna fuck with my sunstroke heat That's on the strength~! After you leave, the car wash I shit on top of your Cherokee Jeep When I knock on the door Niggaz play like they not home, cause they scared to speak! Sleepin under beds, wrapped up in fuckin sheets! Sega Genesah nigga we finish a nigga [Chorus] [Ced Gee:] Yeah, check it Dawg you cross me, you might as well take your own life See I ain't takin no prisoners son, I'm even murderin your wife Slaughterin all your kids, yeah, I'm that trife Then sit down listen to your rep and give a thorough sermon about the wrath of Christ Drink some hot cocoa, sleep well that night Then wake up in the mornin, and write some Ultra elevation Do a show in Italy dawg, then listen to a standin ovation Make a couple of songs in Haitian Spanish and Japanese, bee-da-dong-yong I'm great son, make no mistake son You sleep on me all you want, and I bet you they find yo' ass in a lake son [Chorus] [Outro:] This is war... This is war... This is war... From Letras Mania