Artist: DJ Ron G. f/ Killa Sin, KRS-One, O.C., Raekwon, The Notorious B.I.G. Album: n/a Song: Stop the Breaks Typed by: Cno Evil
[Intro: samples] "You can send my money in" - repeated over and over
[Chorus: samples] "Let's start it like this son" - Raekwon "Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang" - 8X "Let's start it like this son" - Raekwon
"Alright, so you go now, come on"
[Raekwon] Yo, the style's older than sharkskin, Malcolm hit the market I gather rhymes and load up, cuz it's a hold up I meditate fast, do and stash it in there The classic dough, so what, check the graphic on this rap snowboard Peace to RZA razor, yo, the nigga's major Who slice checks fast, like whitey's when collect raises And won't stab me, the ragged dragulate We generate, lay in the area, air adrenaline See, yo I'm magical, swift like a magular sharp Gat accular, mechanical, and new spark Now watch a beat that makes you shakes and breaks you Ron G., lays a million of the safe son Aiyo, peace to uptown, Shaolin, now, walk through child is wild Huh, hit you like this, son, Ron G., '94, takin' up the war
[Chorus]
[Killa Sin] I cop miles and miles of my style, to utilize And buddhalize niggas, shoot the spies, cuz I'm super fly Their ain't a nigga in the game who take me I'm flip, bangin' Nas, and they try to rearrange me So how the fuck do you figure you can hang Wit a nigga who slang is equipped to pick a nigga's brain I come hards to the fullest scar For pulling cards, for leavin' niggas scarred on the boulevard Check my seeds, my wife'll step creeds like these Bisect so I flex when I'm crackin' these A homicide in the makin', you enter the chambers And search us to death, cuz Wu take it See mad force, feel the mind of a Killa Sin, it's iller than your ordinary blood spiller When it's time to come in on the track I'm like a maniac hoppin' your stack when it's all back What, 1994, give it to your raw
[Chorus]
[KRS-One] Peace to sound boy, airwaves, you check I'm bout to set the party off wit the fly rap I cap, suckas wanna battle, give me mine You rhymes won't be fly, if you send them on Delta Airlines Now it's ok, cuz second grace, it's come to bang out You hate to bust a lucky, dummy, hungry, get the fuck I got the heart to taste you, let you all in I got a style, G, I ain't no saint I do graffiti art, but like Mozart, decorate the symbol, I ain't Just paint, wait, wait, wait, wait, let me speak, let me speak While I'm on this feat, your career is lookin' meek I couldn't understand why you wanna come and soak and sweep But that is nice, while your rhymes and skills are weak You need to wake up, pick a rapper, rep a sucker Put my album on toast, cuz it's butter Visions of me, will never have to cite it It's like I see a hall of teens sayin' "Kill Whitey" You write me, might blown off in my correction Lyrical expertise is a cheat, while standin' next to you You should of know your career was gonna end Should of called to your home and a psychic fuckin' friends Now it's envy, can't remain it, I spend it On wack M.C.'s, I come death to recommend it
[The Notorious B.I.G.] I'm hard, to overset, I'm barred from the pearly gates Fuck 'em, I didn't wanna go to Heaven anyway But my momma got me on my knees wit my hands grip Talkin' bout some praise the Lord shit Hail Mary, fuck her, I never knew her I'll probably screw her, and dump her body in the sewer Eye longer, my pops stuck a ghost box Big black and mean wit the fifth by the cabin teens What to expect, from his next to kin I'm loco born, but ain't no Mexican I got nines in the back room