[Intro: Shyheim]
Yeah, Shyheim, nigga a/k/a S.I.
A/k/a Jonathan Jackson the Manchild, you hear me
Got my nigga, Lex, yeah, Jersey, Staten Island
Bottom Up, Brock Bros., Stapleton, what up
[Shyheim]
I got S.I. on my back and I`m swimmin`, 9000 miles back home
My whole hood, happy, I`m back home
I`m the backbone, black stone, Greatest Story Never Told
Came to the wilderness of North America, alone
Stompin` like a giant, on my corner, mash potato Timb`s
Containin` more fucked iodine, vitamins
I`m grindin`, puttin` it in, from the Bottom Up
And I don`t rock watches or bracelets, cuz they remind me of handcuffs
Niggaz woke up a sleeping dragon, you hear that fire coming out my mouth
You better call the red and white wagons
And while you at it, tell `em don`t forget that leak water
I be so wet whoadee, I can dry water, and for all y`all
Niggaz out there, thinkin` y`all tough
Real gangstas, like myself`ll make y`all buckle like the end of a belt
My handle`s critically acclaimed, locked down the game
With a one and two side, amex in the main
[Chorus 2X: Shyheim (Lex)]
I`m back (Yeah, Shy, see you hear, never left
But you back in the hood, so tell me what`s really good)
It`s great (See, niggaz thought it wouldn`t happen
Picture the kid rapping, yes, niggaz he`s back in)
[Lex]
Cuz it`s back, this young dude from the Bricks, homey
Became immune to the strip, carry two`s, put shoes on the whip
And I move with the fifth, on me, in case dudes wanna flip
I leave `em leakin`, droolin` in shit
But I can`t stop, my block needs me, but just remember
That bustin` these shots, and duckin` these cops, is not easy
I`m down for whatever, I stand on the pavement, I`m trynna
Round up this cheddar, I need a vacation
I`m so stressed and my girl don`t help, she can`t understand
Why I`m so stressed and why I worry myself
And it`s really starting to bother a nigga
So with this weight laws, I`m startin` to shake off, pardon a nigga
Balls, I got paper, but I`m far from a million
That`s why I`m, still in these streets, I hustle hard in these buildings
Yeah, they say it`s wrong, that these crackheads need me
But I can`t, leave it alone, cuz crackheads feed me
Ricky, Shawn, Daneen and Barbara, Phylis and Ursula
Got so much, that I`m needing a worker
Show `em how to move, and gets moved with a slot game
But only talk samples, when the color of your top change
[Chorus 2X]
[Shyheim]
I got a call from Bobby Digital, he said it`s critical
For me to record a new album, I said aight, no interviews
I refuse to talk to any reporters or disc jockeys
This is for the people, so I got a right to be coky
I`m the one and only, the only one chosen
I preserve my microphone in, by keeping it frozen
As a child, I said realer shit than most of you grown men
I`m certified, ultra live, the ghetto says so
Play my tape, even the roaches gon` come chill in your radio
I`m ruthless, but wont day real easy, got whole hoods
Wearin` mechanic suits, I do dudes so greasy
I`m a hoodlum, til they turn out my lights, and give me a quarter
I still have more girlfriends, than Diana Ross daughter
It`s a manslaughter....
[Chorus 2X]
