Am I My Brother's Keeper? (feat. Infamous)

Shyheim

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    Eh yo, eh yo, eh yo
    Yo, yo, yo
    My son want his back, fuck that (my shine is beautiful)
    It's time right now, you know?
    It's like we ain't fuckin with no lame ass niggas no more
    Bein bullshit by bullshit niggas (for real)

    Am I my brother's keeper?
    Theres no need to ask, I'm the creeper
    Million dollar man, Johnny Cash
    Puff the reefer, sometimes mix it with the hash
    Hard to keep up, 100 yards dash, beat your feet up
    Jumpin Jack Flash on a muthafuckas ass
    Caught 'em in the weed stash tryin to tap the bag
    Now he suspect, read him his rights, it's only right
    I never, never, never in my long-legged life
    Ever bite like shark niggas, got an appetite
    for destruction, lusting for dough, it's disgusting
    Disgraceful, end of disscusion, this tasteful
    Like cyanide erase you, pull up, let me take two
    Come all you faithful, Meth and Shyheim
    Tommy Hilfiger, that I'm a Johnny 'field nigga
    Till I die, S.I.N.Y. testify
    Girlfriend sweating my game, killing my high

    I'm a 100 proof, like Smirnoff blue label
    I'm so wild, got housearrest bracelets on each ankle
    I break you, something fatal and make New Jersey trade you
    You don't got game, so niggas don't playa-hate you
    Come back to Brooklyn, the ya G's gone
    Chase you up, batted in dun, dun
    Nike won't endorse you so you rock an And-1
    I pull out the M-1 and hit you handsome
    cuz you forcin it, you can hang it up like an ornament
    End your actin career, put you back in street tournaments
    Run for your life, like you doing suicides
    When even use your scrub ass, Live '9-9

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    Am I my brother's keeper?
    There's no need to ask
    I ride for my brothers, give me the gun and the mask
    We be in the bushes like The Down Low stash
    Pop up like a warrant, let off on that ass

    Yo..
    Y'all could catch the player Inf' way beyond calm
    Sharp and on bomb chron, rockin my Sean John
    Copin the bomb chron from Sharon on the quan
    Got me chinky-eyed like a Hong Kong don
    Fire arm palm, cock back caution
    Alarm for the chumps, boy what you think you gon' palm with my charms
    Better pay attention to the harm in my palm and it's fully-loaded
    If I said it, could he hold it?
    but once he seen the gun I said, "son, look he bolted"
    Son, look he noted, the Berrettas'll shever, but he was clever
    He stopped screwing and he blew in his vendettas
    His crew was in to leathers, Avirex and guns
    Some of them was smart but I could say the rest was dumb
    So I played the vest for dumb and saved the checks for dumb
    cuz they hard-head niggas who graze and steadily come
    to be leakin something, you could care for speakin
    frontin bout shit they stick, instead of zip they lip
    They was young niggas, you know the young dumb niggas
    Who don't care how they get it as it come, nigga

    Hey, hey...
    Are you that little guy makin all that big noise?
    [sounds of mad ass dog and man screaming]

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