Interlude :
You gotta understand that when it was in to have a gun and be in the street, my mother gave that up to be in the house and wash the dishes and feed us and put the thoughts in our brains. Because we didn’t get any of that history from any of those soldiers that we lost--we got none of that. They all went to jail, if you can remember. They all went to penitentiaries
Verse 01 2Pac :
Callin' all dogs and phony rap stars
Who think they got me
I'm on some Superman shit now
They shouldn't have shot me
Uh
Cause I'm convinced that my squad is real
And God has blessed me with the power to be hard 2 kill
I got a mind that's full of murderous thoughts
When unleashed
I make them niggas bow
Feel me now or be deceased
I ain't choosing sides
Hell no
Fuck everybody
It's Westside when I ride watch 4 dead bodies
Lyrics are colorful words and anesthetics
Problems are getting worked out faster than calisthenics
I'm bullet proof
Blazed up on top of my man's roof
Hands on a fully AK so what'chu plan to do
Moon motherfuckaz 'til they feel me
It's West Coast nigga fuck New York
Now did everybody hear me?
You shot at my homies now Imma blast
Screamin' Thug Life muthafucka when I pass
Hook:
NY '87
NY '87
NY '87
NY '87
Verse 02 Rakim :
Dance floor's dangerous
Packed in like a briefcase
Rhyth with ral rough rhyme
Beats with deep bass
Girls with tight pants
Maybe they might dance
Tonight if the Rs on the mike
There's a slight chance
The crowd is crucial
M.C.'s grounds are neutral
Now that you're here let me introduce you
Get ready
I'm hard read like graffiti but steady
Science I drop is real heavy
Radiant energy, that'll be the penalty
Touch the third rail on the pain of remedy
The prescription's one every hour
Now it's a HABIT
Ya need another hit from the freestyle fanatic
Attention: follow directions real close
Keep out of reach of children
Beware of overdose
Too many milligram
NO ONE made a iller jam
My rhyme is the rhythm of thoughts
That kill a man
Ideas for the ear to fear
Might split 'im
He'll never forget 'im
He'll rest in peace wit' 'em
At least when he left he'll know what hit 'im
The last breath of the words of death
Was the rhythm
NY '87