feat. 7th Ambassador, Bambue



[Intro: Hell Razah (Bambue) {7th Ambassador}]

B.B.P., in the Bronx, B.B.P. (Yo, uh) {what, what}



[7th Ambassador]

My commitee of six'll sick in the flip

Switch in the nines, and pull out knives

Hit the five boroughs at one time

We really never like being confined

That's why we speak about trees in our rhyme

That type of shit, eases our mind

In a everyday struggle, in the jungle

Hash was a hustle and niggas be bad to touch you

If you don't have the muscle in this modern day, cash or trouble

You heard Biggie's ass rebuttal, the Mo the Money, the Mo the Problems

More ways for me to solve 'em, more gats keep revolvin'

So what you talkin'?, you ain't doin' nothin' but offerin'

My little shorties a coffin, claimin' you a master of a world you lost in

Down the mean streets, BX to Compton

Who you crossin', dunn get caught walkin'

On the wrong side of the margin, when shit spray

Like somethin' they made for dodgin'

It's all big rims, you mean to floss it



[Chorus 2.5X: Hell Razah (Bambue)]

Bitches come, bitches go

Never trust a ho

Business Before Pleasure, cuz they out to get ya dough



(Niggas come, niggas go, fuck all ya dough

If I'm a bitch and I'm a ho

Then I'mma go and get my own)



[Hell Razah]

On the block, crack spot watch in front of the cops

He made careers outta corners for his Rolex watch

Up in clubs, straight lick-up, past bitches and sons

Every Sunday at the Tunnel takin' pictures wit thugs







Shorty lookin' in my face like she fallin' in love

Yea, I eat meat, close it 'for the chew in the cut -a