Shyheim – I'm Good Play Your Part Lyrics

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[Intro: Shyheim]
This nigga, shit, yeah, I can't even walk to the corner store
Without a nigga askin' me, like damn
When you come in son, yo, when you go in, man?
When you goin' to do another movie, what's up with an album
Damn, son, you ain't got a welcome, me nothing?
Hah..

[Hook 2X: Kanive]
I'm good, play your part
Those hookers, those hoes, and my job
Those hustlers, those papes, and my squad
My neck, my wrist, my car

[Shyheim]
I know it urks, you, I come through
In an upside down Y, surrounded by a circle
Bottom Up on the windshield
Big mac-11 with them dumb dumbs, stupid, under the chinchill'
Niggas better ch-chill, shit's still real
With the ice pick, the niggas grills, give 'em fish scales
In Fishskill, where the fish kill
I'm like a far ring temtrum, Shyheim, it's real
Flip your whips to squeal, you will get killed
So basically nigga, keep your lips sealed
Put the minute in the pennant, call me Mr. Quick Bill
They hit me with a sentence, but your nigga spit jail
I ran and I ran, with them bounties on my tail
Drinkin' hot water, eatin' shit, that's stale
And still, Flex keep our single spinnin' like windmills
And a nigga fresh outta jail

[Hook 2X]

[Kanive]
Catch Kanive, and in the wide body, pullin' a sled
Still in the streets, duck and dodgin' the feds
Still got the trey deuce, strapped to the lead
How come the yellow bodies looked like scrambled eggs
Get your baby, take your cheese and your bread
I know he slow in the head, this is what I just said
He hearin' things, the blood is sunny side up
When the homey's ride up, with them chromey magnums, yeah
Swallow your pride, and cough up the product
Then I'm back around the block, what up blood
What up cuz, yeah, my pressure is buildin'
And the headphones are fire without a Lox reunion
Keep the streets like checks, nigga, pay your communion
Look, I'm going back from which I came
I'm like King David's sword on the black smith lake
Cherry red, seven sixty, me shine ya dame

[Hook 2X]

[Imf Blue]
I'm good, compared to all these broke liars
Who never gonna fire, like a broke ass lighter
I blow right by ya with a ho like Mya
In a big body Benz with all white tires
Brolic bracelets that cause arthritis
Can't even open the door, got sores on my right wrist
Pores cuz I might just be forced to use my left
Hop it, don't pocket, and cruise my sects
I'm here now, so you where the problem at
I know where ya momma at, I know where to rob you at
The chip of my gun, get thrown where the coffin'
I'm blowin' that concious back, on with that monster mack
Blaow, and when that shit startin' squeezin'
You be right there bleedin', in them Nike air's leanin'
Sirens screamin', when I move from the scripts
Yo, Police and Blue did it, bitch, hit it, ditch

[Hook 2X]

[Outro: Shyheim]
Yeah, that was good nigga
Don't fuckin' worry about me, nigga
Do that shit, nah, I'm ight, man, come on man

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