The Come Up Lyrics

Just gimme the countdown

Know where we goin ("AZ")

Uh-huh ("AZ")

("Streets is yours for the takin now")

Feels so good, uh-huh ("AZ")

You know the come up, stack get right, put the gun up

Laugh, get nice, split the blunt up

Pray blue and whites don't run up, remain humble

You see the change when the Range come through

When all the fame ups your game cause your name's mumbled

The chicks notice, jewels is like hypnosis

It's ferocious when broke niggaz get focused

The cars come out, bottles at the bar run out

You know you're large when you in car could dodge a drought

But here's the twist up, when beef and the money mix up

Skirts lift up, a few fights, few stick-ups

Then one little thing just leads to the next and

Here come them hot boys to breathe down your neck

Now you got to pack up, flee from the rest and

Just a week ago, you was free from the stress

I guess it is what it is

"Creepin on a come up"

"Streets is yours for the takin now"

"I'm from the place where hardcore is beautiful"

"I'm rather unique"

"I'm from the place"

"Brooklyn"

You know the saga, who liver, who hotter

Who shot at who at the Ramada

I knew about beef since Bambaataa

Before "Beat Street" streets was heavily deep with the riders

Guns and money, some was hungry

Dysfunctional families that come from junkies

Jailbirds with wanted warrants up in countries

Just jungle survivin like a bunch of monkeys

Marked dollars, D.A. NARC's with collars

Niggaz snitchin, but still got the heart to holler

Hot chicks in short skirts and damn near topless

Play fly and they gossip, stay high and just ride dick

Can't call it, too fresh to spoil it

Two tecs to war with, grew up next to all this

So understand I know from firsthand

The lies of a church man, high off his first gram

The jails is packed, the streets is wack

It's even worse when your workers tappin your beeper sack

Wifey's gettin feisty, she's beefin back

Though it's unlikely, it might be her Visa's maxed

The coke is up, so now cushion throws what's up

And the Ricans got the game in the cobra clutch

The D's in the Capris too close to duck

But what the fuck, they can suck on some coconuts

The stress is real, it drains all the sex appeal

Nuttin left but jail death or a record deal

Vibes is weak, hoes wanna slide and creep

Even fiends got a thing for that hide and seek

Stick-up kids, kidnap, switch up cribs

It's still crazy how them cocksuckers hit up Big

'Pac is gone, the state of hip-hop is wrong

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