Asphalt

Yo Cap man we ready on this shit

Capital Crime Lord, fucking slum lord man

Going out to fucking Creepy bull

Bridge

Keep it street motherfucker, yeah

We keep it fucking street like the asphalt

Bitch shake ya ass what you ask fo'

 The Sean Don sipping on a Castro

And double up every time I pass through

Chorus

If you counting put your hands up

(High)

Worldwide put your hands up high

(High)

My real shooters put your hands up

(High)

Worldwide put your hands up

(High)

Verse

Yo, once the clock turn, they will not learn, grew stern

True spit, true grit, true rooster cock bird

It's the law firm of John Doughburn

The shop got burnt, the chemical bio-terrorism

The poison crop germ

The tomato can smasher, hand cast in plaster

Grandmaster bullets touch you like Aretha Franklin's pastor

Through backdoors with hat sores, attack like black Moores

I rack wars, I lack laws, I smack whores and crack jaws

Like crab claws

Torture conditions, Spanish inquisition, Judo crucifixion

Jiu Jitsu guillotine positions submission

Mob execution, dead bride, head fried

And leave the heroin syringe planted by the bed side

I put it in the brain of man to have a murderous fear

No circus here, make sure the words in my message be clear

I learn to be determined and persistent just to persevere

Whether spitting verse of the decade of verse of the year

Bridge

Keep it street motherfucker, yeah

We keep it fucking street like the asphalt

Bitch shake ya ass what you ask fo'

 The Sean Don sipping on a Castro

And double up every time I pass through

Chorus

If you counting put your hands up

Worldwide put your hands up high

My real shooters put your hands up

Worldwide put your hands up

Verse

I break star big dreams, I slay bar sixteens

Like AR-15s, I spray car flip scenes

Like splits screens in the flicks of Brian Da Palma

Ignite the armor, see me lying in shining armor

Die in a mortar

From the war era of rotary helicopters

Generating drone strikes to hospital doctors

Modern Mongolian Genghis Khan conquers these hip-hop imposters

Like politician teleprompters

He's stuck in the 90s, that ain't gonna get him a check

Wait a sec, I'm stuck in the 80s, get the decade correct

Tried to ban a deep sobby bitch

But a rugged man lives and after I'm dead

I'll still be worshipped by your grand kids

Back on the block, no brain, hustle take notes

I supply crack with George Bush and Ronald Reagan ghosts

Nightmare the feminist society had to condemn

Fifty-two blocks glocks of toxic masculine men

Bridge

Keep it street motherfucker, yeah

We keep it fucking street like the asphalt

Bitch shake ya ass what you ask fo'

 The Sean Don sipping on a Castro

And double up every time I pass through

Chorus

If you counting put your hands up

Worldwide put your hands up high

My real shooters put your hands up

Worldwide put your hands up