Info for the Streets

Check it out, uh

Check it out, uh

Check it out, uh

Check it out, uh

Check it out, uh

Check it out, uh

Check it out, uh

On the 8th day, they all heard God say

Let there be hip hop, and then came 'Te

In this armor, ill fate sealed with karma

Endless black night, attack mic shows when packed tight

One step beyond, be calm, first letter

A-bomb, blowing water out the pond, behind

Enemy lines, I'm like Kennedy dying

Unknown to mankind, his flesh got him blind

Can you peep me?

Wake up, world, you look sleepy

Ain't no nigga man enough to take the land from beneath me

Stand firm, a plan to sleep with the worms

Some emcees don't like me, but I'm not concerned, yeah

I'll pull the slaver into cattle that'll preserve every word

Got styles harder than liquid now

I'll make a move with the Garcia Vegas and the tools

Emcees are Doomed, I'm leaving whole crews fatal wounds

So bring your shield, steel, and your skill sicker

The best thing since the invention of the wheel

I'm Hi-Tek, going, flowing, foreign object

You got to hustle on the side, and projects worldwide make it known

Wanna battle? Niggas can't be cloned

The epitome and Gods giving enemies the microphones

They explode on sight, we tearing up land

Like Japan, so every man better hold tight

Wack emcees with pens? That's a sin

Don't make a move, doom the beginning of the end

I kick this shit for my peeps and all those who seek

The unthinkable information for the streets

Things is fucked up in the belly of the beast

To give my mind some peace, I kick this shit for peeps

And all those who seek the unthinkable

Information for the streets

Things is fucked up in the belly of the beast

To give my mind some peace

I kick this shit for peeps and all those who seek

I'm known to defeat mobs, teach hives, watch and get street jobs

Sicking killer journals on those who wanna meet God

From the unknown, we're prophets of an ill call

80 G's, low key, locked in a steel vault

Now that's the combination

Timothy McVeigh type thoughts, the word react, abomination

I bomb a nation, spark an L and make a toast (toast)

This the foremost (Most) bumping reggae rhythms by Don Carlos

I'm here testing the red resin, my crew spread, expressing

For good greens, I'm running hood scenes instead of stressing

Them grim cops who watch crop spots or young jakes

Up in the locks, dropping dimes on head that clock knots

I roam streets on chrome elites, I used to bone freaks

At phone reach, but now my time is spent with Tone's beats

I kick this shit for my peeps and all those who seek

The unthinkable information for the streets

Things is fucked up in the belly of the beast

To give my mind some peace, I kick this shit for peeps

And all those who seek the unthinkable

Information for the streets

Things is fucked up in the belly of the beast

To give my mind some peace

I kick this shit for peeps and all those who seek

Check it out, uh

One love to the streets

One love to the streets

One love to the streets

Check it out, uh

One love to the streets

Check it out, uh

One love to the streets

Check it out, uh

One love, one love huh