Street Degrees - Solomon Childs

The Gods favor you, red is the God’s color

You will need their help today…

This is killa shit, acid spit

Turn the heat up, let 'em bake

Fake miscellaneous, birth spontaneous

Put it work, Mediterranean, the Capo Regime

Street Degrees;

Shaolin to Queens

Business as usual, never sloppy, murder motherfuckers, casual

Gun game, target aim, beauti’fal, team that’s suited about

Niggas that don’t bull, but pull and kill, big money, but I’m hard to kill

I’m equipped with more than skills, Staten Island

Land of the murder hills, and dead end blocks

Rosco and the cocaine dealers, got the same Glocks

I’m dedicated to the blocks, dedicated to them pushing the rocks

Pushing dead bodies off the peers, I ain’t Usher, I don’t wanna 'burn'

Push ya silly ass down the stairs, advice, hennessy and purple haze

Clear your fears and have you growing chest hairs, nigga

You know it’s songs like this, that give killas like this

High temperature, just wanna see the foam coming outta cowards mouth

Big up to them gangstas, wildin' in the dirty south

Fuck game playing, I want world power, throw in the towel, boom, like gun powder

You heard the Jada, cocaine scales that’ll weigh the whales

Felonies, outside and inside of jails

VSOP, Newports, we starving, nigga we starting

Like gasoline fires, game over, quiet, now retire

Two attempts, beat one prior, and ain’t nobody gonna get the 'best of me'

Homey, like I was Mya, flip a beat like Hezekiah

This is real liver, straight fire, baby, baby