Think Differently

(álbum: Dreddy Kruger Presents... Think Differently Music: Wu-tang Meets The Indie Culture - 2005)

[Casual:]
It go, gangsta-gangsta, thug, killa
I'm the black panther that shot the drug dealer
I live on the block, where dudes bust they knocks
Ride on top of the car, they crush they rocks
Niggas hop my fence, to run from cops
See I'm a nigga too, so I know how niggas do
Keep it real, you should let that bullshit silence
You only been involved in domestic violence
Nigga, I chase Remis with Long Islands
Catch us in the club, doing them long, wiling
The microphone marvelous, this Marvin Haggler
It's so obvious, in the lobby, suave and dressed
Where the party is? Round trip, flight to LaGuardia
Nobody dodge, when we walk through the audience
Dolo, with more dough to blow though
For sure though, slide one deep in a four door
I'm poor though, catch me rocking a Lisa Lobo
Bump yo ho, I want more to the boatload

[Tragedy Khadafi:]
And the Pope can't save your soul, what I unfold
Was written in gold, hieroglyphic Egyptian scroll
Streets I've been in, from the beginning I'm a legend
Never flee up from my enemies, shots I'm sending
Musical martyr like John Lennon, from the beginning
Spit with a vengeance, semi-automatic weapon repping
Calm stop, warlock like David Geffen
Blowing ox', like oxygen, out of my nostrils
Seen brave men, fight for they honor and even die
Two gorgeous divas, blowing the heaters down the ride
To the, end of the earth, through hell, water and fire
Queens Messiah, camouflage black attire
Magnum opus, top five, dead or alive
The feds focus my militants, swerving the lotus
Mossberg in the hostess, I write it then release it
Then I, bless the street, giving birth to soldiers
Rolls gold, King Tut piece, flooded with boulders
I praise Allah, making Salat, facing the east
This is for them black and white babies, starving to eat, Think Differently

[Roc Marciano:]
Poverty stricken, fried chicken, fly rhyme kicking
Blind visions from the mind's wisdom, in this crime religion
Niggas listen, what I'm spitting is hard as prison
Benches in the trenches, grym intentions, twin Doberman pinchers
Leather trenches, lead drenches for brat endless
Gats eleven inches, ya neck slit it, your head spin it
The epidemic was spread infinite, so once the thread is knitted
For seven digits, it's just business, no disrespect intended
To he who feel offended, a beat down cannot be prevented
Big hit it, the game I'm deep in it, until my Yankee fitted
Switch three, be hanging niggas, squeeze three eighty triggers
Used to fuck my babysitters, now I whip Mercedes-Benz'
I stand alone, cause I'm grown, for me to crush the Walkman
Gang lover supporter, of any sort, when I'm New York
Rolling for dolo, the Willie Bobo gotta go bro
Word to JoMo, the kid in the polo, got the world in a yo-yo
Your happy meal skills is still, no frills
Cook crills, sign deals, when you see me, just kneel
Or rocking mills, your hospital bill
Blood from your nostril spill, it's not looking well
When I lick off shots, the hostages yell
Chopper fell like ox tail, your optic's swell

[Vordul Mega:]
Ninjas with blades, raised from jungles of wolves
In hoods, where hammers bark and the tenants spark
Police on radar, so we stay fogged up
Puffing blunts, sipping Goose, and damage
God Damn it's hard, but still, we getting by like rhino's
Ones that peel, crucified on the Earth, for guns and nails
Nine inches, hurt, I cause stitches, build
With Gods on track, suffering visible scars, it's hard to relax
Ready to spaz, no weed, thirst for cash, times moving fast
We like cheaters with masks, lighting cheeba and hash
Trying to balance the steps, screaming, we need freedom
Tired of bleeding, where eagles let out evil
Town is of death, no time for weakness
Higher heights to reach, advance the concrete
With iron feet