Swimming with the Sharks (Street)

[Intro: Sample Quote from [?]]
[?]: There are stories of love inspiring success over the most insurmountable of odds. This is not one of those stories

[Verse 1: Jean Grae]
Who got the death clutch with hands cold as ice gripping the steel knife?
My nights spent drinking, holding on to bitter life
It ain't worth it. My body's fragile on the surface
My mind ready to exit this physical place
My soul verses. Everything up on the planet worthless
Sent to hell, watching flames coming from your churches
Send all your nurses—my sickness inflicted from curses
The antidote extracted from the lines within my verses
Immortal burning, we light the L for higher learning
And pour Bacardi out for all the niggas 'ready turned in
Preaching devil sermon, gnawing. Concern is wrong
Our fasting broke to make the year the holy Ramadan
The Muslim-born child that recited a cruel storm
That spawned on 11/26, the break of dawn
See, all songs are reckless. My words stand strong
My life's short like the blasts from bombs in Lebanon
Self-prophecy: my body claim divine property
All scripted in the stars, mastered in astrology
Can't change it—the ill-fated destined to fall
No second-guessing or a question to all
Laws of physics on the side of living and God the life giving
But dead to slice you like a devil psyched upon the children
Villainous ways ‘cause, these last days, niggas hold
When I die, niggas pour the liquor for my crippled soul
My body fall like a deck of cards, smash like
A rented car, blacker than the hair of Pat Benatar
Last show, niggas. I stand proud
Kiss my moms for me, throw my ashes in the crowd

[Verse 2: Pokaface]
Yo, I’m ‘bout to sell my soul to the Devil for this
Bricks out, rebellious, switch my name to a alias
Spitting some of the craziest thoughts you ever seen
Made demons see when the brain full of weed
‘Til they stopping my breath, it’s death or it’s prison
Envision: I’m swimming in the blood of the system
Brown Izm gave you manic depression and some wisdom
By 2G, I might be a supersized victim
‘Cause I learned that I shall burn—too much sinning
Henny got my head spinning, Ralph-Laurening
Waiting for Satan. Until then, I stay bread-winning
With thirty-seven-inch cables and Benz emblems
My wounds, you can’t mend ‘em ‘cause, for the vial
I’m mortified, yo. Semi-autofy, yo
With sixteen rounds to lift a nigga off of
Four-hundred-sixteen pounds, prestigious sounds
Wool pounds bred from the QU Forest
Rip you to shred while your head singing the chorus
More style for times than Portis. It’s Pokaface
Four-four on my waist, headed to my court case

[Interlude 1: Sample Quote from Swimming with Sharks (1994)]
Buddy Ackerman: Everyone lies. Good guys lose. And love... does not conquer all. So let’s do this thing. Let’s finish it

[Verse 3: Pumpkinhead]
Keep your Glock on cock when you drop through my zone
We spit hot rocks at cops, chopping their domes
Conceal weapons—you never be spotting the chrome
Sipping on Henny, rock with my nigga, Jerome
In the crib's where I lay on a cold winter day
With your wife naked in her socks sipping on Zay
Got her legs spread eagle while I spit in them eggs
Spit in them eggs, licking her face
At the same time, I display rhymes uplifting my race
I spit like a loaded Luger, cripple your waist
I don't give a fuck, so I act suspicious to jake
On my block, shit is hot like a trip to L.A
Time's ticking away. I'm just living today
Bag of choke, rum and coke, and it's twisting my brain
No joke, we get low with a vision of pain
The pain I sustain in the game will wrinkle your veins
Simple and plain, I walk the long-distance terrain
Soaked brown paper bag displays the night train
Shit'll never change ‘cause we're still living the same
Step to me and my crew? You fricking insane?
Position the flame, lifting your frame
If you piss in my name, duck when I click and I aim
O.B.S. be that clique dicking your dame
Boogie-Night style with stripper sniffing the 'caine, hip to the game
Make a cat sitting on fangs spread wings like a crane
Take flight through the night, crack sake
Sipping on planes, international until I vanish
The baddest. Only God know my status

[Verse 4: Krisis]
I kept a grudge before y’all fake niggas became thugs
Doing my thing before y’all niggas started selling drugs
It’s bugged. Your own peeps’ll try to get you clapped
Smile in your face and snatch your shine when you turn your back
It’s real odd, so we don’t even pray to God
My front door is only leading to my backyard
We live the life that make insane niggas snap
Thugs be getting clapped with their brains in their lap
Let’s rewind the hands on time and reminisce
When life wasn’t nothing like this in ‘86
Before busting caps, you used to take it to the ‘byss
Before weed smoke, it was mazzards and chew sticks
Now we victimize, criticize. Look through a killer’s eyes
And digitize, analyze how we slice pies
We disguise stacks and bundles, make it legalized
No cheesy pride rocking links. Hold your pieces high
My piece is wild politicking, ain’t no compromise
We neck-deep for trying to wet our feet. We hold
Heat with a gold streak and too advanced with it
Poetically mastered and verbally transmitted
Official cats. We went from hungry—could you picture that?
Pressing luck. Niggas is shook, so they vested up
Mess with us, you live-wired like you testing stuff
Who bless the cut? It’s only right you invest a buck
We kept the touch, laid back and untwined
Look on the peace sign, the same fingers that’ll hold a 9

[Outro: Sample Quote from [?]]
[?]: Do it. Come on, do it now (*Gunshot*)