Prince Of New York - KIllarmy, 9th Prince

I must’ve been away too long

My feelings are dead, I feel no remorse

It’s my turn…

Yo, yo y’all niggas is 9 to 5 niggas, I’m a survive nigga

I’m live like the shorties on your block with twin Glocks

Let off like an oo wop, thug life like 2Pac

Weed and crack, e-pills stashed inside my bulletproof Gucci socks

I 'blackout' like Red and Meth

When I first came in yea, the whole game slept

Ever since I was 17, I been snatchin' niggas' mics with the Five Fingers of

Death

Yo, the 9th Prince I rock a 9 on my chest

My criminology’s 'criminal minded' like KRS

Y’all need bald head niggas pullin' triggers

I put seven bullets in your figure

I’m slicker than Sharon Stone in Sliver, what I deliver send shivers

Like drowning in cold water runnin' through rivers

Y’all niggas in the field know how I build

Oh word, you ain’t heard?

16 shots to your grill

Lay down flat, roll on your face, pick up the pace

I’m like a hardcore version of the pretty boy Mase

I’m hot like lava, you get smacked in your teeth

For tryin' to disrespect the Killarm saga

My street army niggas is outsiders

We run a train on this white bitch look like Michelle Pfeiffer

I roll with a gang of niggas wild like Al Qaida, Al Qaida, yo

I’m the Prince of New York

The way that I walk, make the girls hawk

I was born on Staten Island so that’s the way that I talk

Outline your body in chalk, and stab you with a rusty fork

Ey yo the streets is flooded with crack cocaine

My brain rain like a hurricane, spit flame, till I’m insane

Like a cowboy, hooded up on the iron horse train

Bitches maintain, stink hoes know my name

Clothes I never change, rearrange the game

Now every thug wanna feel my pain

Smack 'em in the brain for being the lame

Cut 'em up in pieces, then flush 'em down the drain

Them dogs is pitbulls, I’m more like a great dane

Robbed the hottest chick in the game, for her man’s chain

Word up, yo

Yea that’s how we do it

In the year two thousand and four and five

Y’all niggas is straight jive, word up

Yea, one love to my peoples

J-Love, word up, Kay Slay

Pete Rock and Marley Marl, and all you underdog DJ’s

My man Alexander the Great, eatin' niggas like steak

Killarm, the 9th Prizm get up in 'em, yea, for real

(You think ambushing me in some nightclub’s

Gonna stop what makes people take drugs?

This country spends a hundred billion dollars a year on getting high

And it’s not because of me, all that time I was wasting in jail

It just got worse, I’m not your problem, I’m just a businessman.)