Text:
Tech Nine Beef

fire where I learned to ball Uptown is the place where I lay my dome On the streets of the Bronx where my family roam Hoe, damn it, we home, Peter got a nine

to me, muthafucka) Yo, it's New Year's son (fuck ya'll niggaz, this ain't no Yo, Ghostface, my gold is fifty hundred, I want my money) NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN

throw the grands up And what? I got a plot to get what's mine in the nine-nine It's my time, motherfucker, try to stop me busting nine-nines Wild ridahs

the Motel 6 laying up with two chicks the Lenny and Squiggy way Or Jack Tripper, I'm TECH the rap Ripper on Cognac, liquor I'm TECH the gat Clicker I'

nigga a suplex. Coathangastrangla banging' the deuce set, chokeandstrangle name it in two blex. It's the season of the siccness times three, spittin' the venomous IV fulla white weed. And my nine

, and real niggas hush Fake niggas run, and real niggas bust Y'all got me fucked up, I been a street nigga And when it's cold outside, I bring my heat nigga Don't beef

graves, funerals made 'cause I was sprayed I was laid in a shelf, with a grenade Met a wrecked up tech with numbers on his chest that say Five two o nine

when I'm pushin' my line money hangin' out the ass didn't get it for crime/ Ain't worried about beef, but I do carry a nine/ I'm a put it on your mind

hot, bustin' til the beef stop Preach not, our goal is to reach the top Knees drop, I light it up and clean shop Built with better design, clever mind Verbal Tech nine