[Hell Razah]
S.O.M, S.O.M, night-crawler
We ain`t new to this game, we ain`t lame
We don`t care bout fame
jus` relate to them niggas who be takin` ya chain
A-Train on the range anybody could get it
Hollow-tips in ya brain any bullet can fit it
I.V.`s in ya veins in the back of the clinic
When you hear the Sunz Of Man, we ain`t comin` with gimmicks
Been had bad bitches while we handle our business
First time we came out, niggas took it religious
Now we back on the scene while you lookin` suspicious
like a brother from the hood can`t be dealing with riches
Seven digits in my bank account, holding my pivot
Twenty-four `bout to take rap over the limits
Rollin` up in the whips with our windows tinted
Get locked, finger-printed, and be out in a minute
It`s all over, quit writing, y`all careers just finished
It`s a rap for these cats sun, pass my Guiness
[Hook: Hell Razah (Prodical)]
(S.O.M)
Who them niggas that the streets love?
(S.O.M)
Who them niggas that the ladies love?
(S.O.M)
Who y`all can`t fuck wit`, sun?
(S.O.M)
Who them niggas that they really feel?
(S.O.M)
Who them niggas that they scared of?
(S.O.M)
Who them niggas in them X5s?
(S.O.M)
Who them niggas poppin bottles?
(S.O.M)
[Prodical]
We count cash like the lotto, the invincible three
Fuck sentimental, it`s the great Sunn-Zi
Inspired by the late Gandhi, wire money
niggas wanna see us fall, that shit is funny
Rise to the top, do or die `til I drop
Twist lines greenity, brock, lines of chalk
2 On Da Road, S.O.M we blaze hot
Wu-Tang Clan we expand never rot
Nationwide, picture on the TV guide
Show-time live, CD stings like beehive
Love fat asses, tits with big thighs
stay high, this play-er, ready for war
Heavy machines, 6 series never leary
Travel to the game, I stand like Mount Eerie
Punch in ya face left ya eye teary
Fuck thugs and the jewelry
I`m the judge and the jury
[Hook]
[Hell Razah]
It started off as a dream
Now happiness is all it could bring
Comin` through hard times
Now we into stacking our CREAMs
Same niggas wanna roll used to laugh at our team
and I don`t trust this rap shit
We keep a gat in our jeans
When you sleep niggas creep, seen it happen to Kings
Crack fiends livin` longer than my niggas who sling
This ain`t a magazine shorty, I live without greed
I need a seven digit bank account, to take care of my seed
Drop a jewel `bout reality, twistin` my weave
Seen families depart `cause of envy and greed
Now we celebrate, love and hate made us elevate
Invest our money in the real estate, pop bottles by the case
Grab a model by the waist, put a smile upon her face
Ain`t no doubt what we do sun, I gotta lot of faith
Now it`s time for a lot of cake
We `bout to eat, nahimsayin?
[Hook X3]
[Outro: Hell Razah (Prodical) *overlapping hook*]
S.O.M. motherfuckers, official
That`s stamped on ya motherfuckin` forehead
Understand? It`s time for the desert range
And watch who you about to see us put on this game
It`s about to be on and poppin`
Sunz of Man is back in this motherfuckin` house
Who the fuck fuckin` wit` us?
Motherfuckin` 2 On Da Road, Ghetto Government
Motherfucker, what? We `bout to show y`all
20-02 ain`t no motherfuckin` joke
Your microchip`ll get motherfuckin` rejected
That`s real baby, (S.O.M.) it`s real.. (S.O.M.)
