Shootyz Groove, Big Punisher - Caribbean Connection Lyrics

(Warning, warning)

Yo, you wanna rumble with the Groove, huh?
Take a shit on the whole industry
Yo, who puff more L's than Groove? Rock with more styles than Groove?
Who's the only one to make the whole nation move?
Runnin' up on sucka's sets like we pay the bills
Make 'em fret the situation, hide the deck for real
I lace your fears with the freshest style
Hit your groove like a father, if you wanna test the group, it's hotter
I'm on the block with fundamentals, like every pencil
A piece of paper, a decent caper, just the bare essentials
Mental's compatible with the radicals
My odyssey type, qualities allow me to poli' with animals
Brotha's are cannibals and the ghetto's a jungle
Where you either bet all your bundles or struggle or live civil and humble
The Groove'll rumble with any band, word from any land
Try to imagine they can take us, but they really can't
Brothas'll slice you and dice you into a thousand pieces
Pound and ground to ship that ass uptown
Up in the Boogie Down, before Lee jeans and crack fiends
Surrounded in green like flowers in Spring
But now I'm a king, comin' into money, all the honies
Used to see me, bum, because the times was really crummy
But now we livin' lovely, and they feel jel' cursed
Want a piece Shootyz Groove now? I'm 'bout to see y'all in hell, first

Mucho trabajo poquito dinero
I'm sellin' perrico
Yo what's the deally, yo?
I'm uptown makin' moves just like Castro
Mucho trabajo poquito dinero
I'm sellin' perrico
Yo what's the deally, yo?
I'm uptown makin' moves just like Castro (yo, yo)

Relax, keep the camera (keep it, keep it)
All I want is the action
A battle zone, where I roam in competition
A hardcore crowd, waitin to see, if I break
Like your first time in jail when you got fucked by an inmate
It'll never happen, I'm on balance like a Libra
And if I get murdered, Don't Cry For Me Argentina
Pour me a cup of vodka, bury me next to my father
In three days, I rise like Christ and still sober
Now my eyes open, in my hands I got the Gatlin'
I'm looking for the guy that sent me to say hi to Satan (uh huh)
Fists of fury, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry
I turn Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood topsy turvy
Fakes and wannabe's meaning the same in the dictionary
This ain't Pictionary, all you see is the cemetery
Bodies, from World War I and II is there
You don't want a third war, that's lyrical warfare
So since live, movin' stash and makin' fast
Illegal money turns legal now we runnin' a laundromat
You're hunchbacked and wack rap is packed in your backpack
Your better off in D.C. with the mayor smoking crack (smokin' crack)
Yo, this ain't a diss, Season Love bomb threat
Run out of your building or get blast in your gas'
Tec for Tec, or we can go text for text
Oh, I forgot, you don't read, so take this hole in your chest, blaow

Mucho trabajo poquito dinero
I'm sellin' perrico
Yo what's the deally yo?
I'm uptown makin' moves just like Castro
Mucho trabajo poquito dinero
I'm sellin' perrico
Yo what's the deally yo?
I'm uptown makin' moves just like Castro
Mucho trabajo poquito dinero (warning, warning, warning, warning)

Mucho trabajo poquito dinero
I'm sellin' perrico
Yo what's the deally yo?
I'm uptown makin' moves just like Castro (warning, warning)
Mucho trabajo poquito dinero (yo, yo, yo, yo)
I'm sellin' perrico
Yo what's the deally yo?
I'm uptown makin' moves just like Castro