Artist: Slaine f/ Lou Armstrong, Patrick Starr, Moroney, Blanco Album: The Boston Project Song: Something to Believe In Typed by: Matt Jost [ VERSE 1: Lou Armstrong ] Every day I wake up to the same shit, I been cakin But nowadays more niggas hatin Geah, they in the cut sittin patient Waitin for me to meet God or Satan Geah, I'm in the streets where the killers roam Them villains know if you fake like silicone He talk about it but inside the kid a clone And under pressure he'll fold, man, I shoulda known Shit I deal with tryina make a mill quick Still sick, can't find a real chick to chill with I know about a dollar, neck frozen by the collar Them 0's and them commas, goons holdin on the lamas Tec blowin for the drama, got a Trojan for your mama While she blowin on this cama gettin low in the Bahamas Slaine said, Lou, get on some lyrical shit It's a miracle I ain't spiritual the shit that I lived That real street shit, real niggas did I eat with Let the heat spit, get caught and don't see shit Runnin with killers of the grittiest kind It's Lou Armstrong a/k/a the City Is Mine [ VERSE 2: Patrick Starr ] Three things I hate: girls, women and bitches Spit venom, I ha-spit, Vivica licked it Cynical fit, a lyrical dick, I'm hot My tip is dipped in Miracle Whip - I'm not To be fucked with - period lips With them pyramids I'm buried with spiritual sphinx Next to me, your whole crew is a terrible mix I'm a don, you're a pawn, America's bitch And you're quick to verticle flip Which means you snitch if heard of a tip Bitch nigga, skin you and turn you to mix Magic, similar to when Ervin was sick Tragic, that -- a turban that ticks Blowin up memorial satorial, showin it's fixed You're an orphan and me I done fathered you And often I'm awesome, the chips I done offered you It's big deal but the deal might costed you [ VERSE 3: Moroney ] Moroney, I'm the best bar none These lame-ass rappers got bars none I shit bars, it's a bar stool High off halucinogenics, looks like a cartoon Spark ghouls, harpoons, I harm dudes Wet him up while he in the whip, that's a car pool Your girlfriend is a bitch and you R2 But she's down for the D2, so don't argue Fly talker, Skywalker, high offa that sour pack Holler back if you let your dollar strack Cats try to hate but take pics and ask for autograph Copy cats, hang 'em up to dry like a towel rag I told y'all I ain't the runner-up I'm so high I'm literally running up Blunted up with two L's, it's a double dutch I'm on the bottom she's on the top, I'm coming up [ VERSE 4: Blanco ] The Bean ready homie, got 'em droppin like right now Them things heavy on me, get it poppin like right now Y'all better back down, quiet that hype down I have some niggas right now lyin yo ass down Cause when the beef come these niggas never there We gon' bring it to your mans or whoever there I got them dudes on the streets and they well prepared Bullets cross your bones, you can see we ain't never scared You can see that we everywhere O-Town to Beantown, BX to B-more Still on the block tryina see checks to see more And we ain't gon' stop till the whole team eat more We hit makers, we get paper Get chicks that's tasters, ( ? ) said it the best And we ain't gon' stop, never put it to rest ( ? ) motherfucker, we the best of the best [ VERSE 5: Slaine] Look we all need somethin to believe in In this world I live inside, yeah it's trife You can pray to Jesus Christ all your fuckin life if you like You can be the white picket fence type with the wife You can knock her up twice, ain't no fuckin Christmas lights from the pipes You know that bitch is trife When you come home from work and you find her gettin piped By some jerk, do you kill her with a knife? Cause the world crushed all that you believe in And she's livin with the mailman in your crib And your kids call him daddy while their mama drive a Caddy That those cocksuckers paid for with your bread I would rather sip Goose from a plastic cup Get sucked by my braod till I crash the truck I would rather quit a job where they treat me like a slob Turn a motherfuckin mall to a massacre Swear to God I ain't livin like a dog I'm takin what I want till I'm livin in the prison or a morgue Talkin to myself, the television isn't on Smokin chron on the lawn writin rhythms to a song That's who I been, man, who I always be I'm still the same kid back from the hallways, G So fuck you if the world's against me I change the story all around - I'm a MC