Streets Move - Big Shug, Singapore Kane

Yeah, here we go, here we go

Big Shug, comin at you baby with my man Singapore

Got the streets movin on 'em baby, that’s whassup

Make moves on them niggas

Once again, it’s the last of the dying breed

Burstin and pushin trees, blastin my enemies

Never conform to nothin, always perform for somethin

Hustle for big chips, shufflin cards and shit

Spittin it for the bricks, spittin it for this clique

Spittin it for the thugs surrounded by dime chicks

Yes I stay intense, my style’s, different

I purify the water like 50 Cent

Spit it heavy heavy, Porsche Caddy or Chevy

Who gave a fuck about your ride when they broke the levy

Don’t blame it on the Pres, blame it on the black mayor

The Pres got the power, the mayor’s just a sayer

I’m still touchin pullin squeezin and clappin

Co-captain when I spit on beats by Preem

I live the life, that you MC’s dream

But I’m still chasin after the cream

Yes I’m still at it, hungry like the very first day

When I picked the microphone up and made the crowd sway

I still scream JUST MOVE ON 'EM

Put the weapons in the air and put TWO ON 'EM~!

Streets move on 'em, he fake moves put two on him

Aim for the head, put pressure on him

Don’t believe what he say, just move on him

Streets move on 'em, streets move on 'em

Poetic street lyricist, hot flows bring heat to my sentences

Fuck a weak gimmick cause I’m deep, did I mention that

MC’s try to spit but I hoch lungies

I was dope when Bobby Brown was rockin that Gumby

Cops fear me cause they don’t scare me

My «Moment of Truth» came when I applied the «Robbin Hood Theory»

Rob from the rich and give to the poor

I’m tight on the stage with the mic, like Eddie Murphy in _Raw_

On the block where I drunk 'gnac and threw up, where Malcolm X grew up

Where new bucks try to make a few bucks

The crack route might get that ass whacked out

I beat backs out, drink Guinness Black Stout

I know rastas who still drive Cressidas

And pack machetes to fuck up your skin like eczema

I be smooth, when I hear the beat groove

Richter couldn’t measure, how I make the streets move, streets move

You foolin the people, push records to sell

Rappin that lie music, dancin to minstrel

Sinful to sing your hooks, layin out for the crooks

We know you ain’t sayin nothin your whole persona’s shook

I’m likin that ice too, I’m likin them cars too

Born with no silver spoon, grindin I have to do

True with my moves, never settle for nothin

Record deals are false, cats with no pulse

Sayin I can be thug, when they know they man’s soft

The industry is soft, take a look at your boss

Today, he’s the one, livin like Bill Gates

Tell you everyday to hurry up so you can wait

Your mentality’s street so every day you creep

He could be yo' next victim any day of the week

Grab him by the shirt, look him dead in the eye

Yell out Biggie Smalls, make him «Ready to Die»