Testo di 'Getto Star' di Hussein Fatal

(Tame One)
Wait'll niggaz hear that Tame and Fatal got down and made it straight
from Uptown with six sacks and this track that's in the background
Stop stressin from the chest up we messed up
off that best stuff that fits up in yo' Dutch
Situation like this you get blown to bits
Fuckin with this Brick lyricist more complex than the Pyramids
Here it is Strictly Biz like small print
In between them bong hits, we drop the strong shit
Chickenheads say, "Who him?" with fucked up Timb's
Knotty fro and baggy denims, spendin up the Benjamins
in city tenaments, the Boom Skwadron odd man
Don't give a fuck like Rodman ("What are you doing?")
With no rings like Patrick Ewing ("What?")
still I play hard regardless
Acquitted from the charges throwin darts up at the heartless
Aimin for your brain, Tame One, one of the darkest
Brown like the chocolate, poppin your metropolis

Chorus: Fatal Hussein

Around my way, all they do is shoot dice all day
Escapin secret indictments, gettin nice all day
Don't let em fold ya, Outlawz, the Getto Star soldiers
Give this letter to the President, before this shit is over
(repeat 2X)

(Fatal Hussein)
When Hussein aim, puttin they brains on walls like Tame name
Blastin these motherfuckers cause they just can't maintain
Y'all plain Jane's gel in the ?Well's? county of Sing-Sing
Me and Young Noble, got em strung hold em for hostage
Lyrics verbally toxic, spit like doubled edged optics
My shit is milk, wearin silk shirts with chocolates
Y'all broke and can't cop shit, I get, physically fit
on some evil eye ready to die shit
This Thug shit, niggaz get beat down and shot up
I saw this one nigga, get stolen on and your soul got up
Stolen car, roll past the bar, toured a lot of city
Gave him an eighth and he cooked his whole product
It's a shame how you cowards change the game for narcotic
You don't get it, don't got it, the love of money get exotic
If you old you get shot at, and can't walk the streets
without gettin your lil' money hungry soft ass spot

Chorus

(Fatal Hussein)
We adapt to the system like ?Eddie Bap? on mission
Get an ounce of izm, two six-packs, and kid listen
Just a dip on the task, my little niggaz on the ave
Do a bid and laugh, come home and cop a half
Hit me with twenty hundred, what you got was fronted
Now run it, I got this fuckin drug spot where I want it
So don't be dissin new, when you ain't got shit to do
Five thousand dollars, charge free, right out municipal

(Tame One)
Niggaz get played off to the left like they was southpaws
Toss you to the Outlawz, then let them shoot it out
for what you clock for -- got more than you expected
When I inject correct shit, it gets hectic
Fuckin comin up with that next shit, Thug niggaz and bugged niggaz
Luce? steel is tight, I'm straight up like midnight
We burn mics on turnpikes, we swervin through the lanes
We throw chains at bitches, it's back to New Jeru to get these riches

Chorus