Tragically Hip - Tiger The Lion lyrics

(feat. Paul Cain)

[Intro - Paul Cain]

Yeah, Desert Storm niggaz, Cain

Ghetto, I got these niggaz man (uh huh)

Clue! (yeah), I'm the first line of defense (yeah)

And I'ma show 'em what that means (yeah)

[Chorus 1 - Paul Cain]

I know these niggaz hoped I wouldn't make it - fuck you

Your hatred only made me wanna cake ya - fuck you

Wherever I see you nigga I'ma buck you

And put a hole in your chest that's big enough to drive a truck through

[Verse 1 - Paul Cain]

I bring the drama back where you lives, flatter your wiz

Reload and then point the Mag at your kids

So what I sound remorse, the records I still peep guns on me

But the difference now is only Deserts

If I talk it's gonna be reckless; I'm ready to die

So when I apply pressure, niggaz gon' respect it

Tote guns to rob niggaz, I told 'em to use

And leave enemies of friends that like broken and bruised

They ain't crazy, they just broke and confused; cross me

And they'll be talks of how they found the man smoked on the news

I'ma career crook - they used a mug shot from my graduation picture

And my junior high school yearbook

Paul Cain never appear shook

Yeah I might talk to my enemies but never police (nah)

You wanna converse it better be brief; you ain't gotta say much

Show me the money and the cheddar'll speak

If it ain't involvin bread, I ain't with it

I don't need D's on me, I'm already dodgin Feds

When the shots from the revolver spread

Duck, I don't discriminate, leave CEO's and artists dead

Make slugs a part of his head

Vanish then pop up in a SL double nickel, scarlet red

Fuck you I'm tryna get my cash right

All my niggaz flip birds and blast pipes, addicted to the fast life

Live everyday like my last night; OD'in or X

When I got signed like Len Bias on draft night (yeah)

Niggaz (uh), Street Dreams (yeah) (uh), (yeah)

[Chorus 2 - Fabolous]

I see ya faggot ass schemin - fuck you

Bitch you don't wanna swallow semen - fuck you

No you hate the way I'm "Street Dreamin" - fuck you

That's why I ridin, clappin, wit the .40 Cal screamin - fuck you

[Verse 2 - Fabolous]

When I pulled the 5 out; I kinda expected

For the backstabbers, to be standin behind me, wit they knives out

Then the Range, wit the fins drove in

I wasn't shocked to see my foes, dressed in friends clothin

But - I still pull through the sty; wit handguns

As big as the one, Robocop pulled from his thigh

You prolly heard about the bullets I buy; and how it look like

I'm throwin batteries, when the bullets shoot by

So what, you wear a vest, why would I care

If I aim for ya chest, that be a good idea

Nigga, it's nothing to clap ya; but I'm more worried

Bout the groupie cops, who wanna put they cuffs on a rappa

That's why I'm limpin off wit a freak; and a lawyer

Who woulda got O.J. Simpson off in a week

I could show you how to blow up on ya own; in a Benz

That'll hit a buck! and make the windows go up on they own

Wit a stash box compartment for; a handgun

That make holes the size of peep holes, on apartment doors

My closet look like department stores; and you wonder why

Ya girl's comin home, wit a cigar sip for

Cause I just dump the light Dutch, mash the guts

You won't believe how much ass I touch

Who else struts pass the sluts, and a chain wit so much

Ash and cuts, that it hangs much pass the nuts

That's why I get followed by broads; wit deeper throats

Then the people at the circus, that be swallowin swords

Y'all hopin that the Don fall off; but my money's long enough

To keep shootin ya bank until, ya arms fall off

I'm eatin, and I ain't have to use someone's utinsels

And when you clean as me, you know that every bum is against you

But please don't let someone convince you; to test the kid

And get hit wit slugs as long, as a No. 2 Pencil, fucka

[Chorus 2 - 2x]