Info for the Streets Songtext
von Mood

Check it out, uh
Check it out, uh
Check it out, uh
Check it out, uh
Check it out, uh
Check it out, uh
Check it out, uh

On the 8th day, they all heard God say
Let there be hip hop, and then came ′Te
In this armor, ill fate sealed with karma
Endless black night, attack mic shows when packed tight
One step beyond, be calm, first letter
A-bomb, blowing water out the pond, behind
Enemy lines, I'm like Kennedy dying
Unknown to mankind, his flesh got him blind


Can you peep me?
Wake up, world, you look sleepy
Ain′t no nigga man enough to take the land from beneath me
Stand firm, a plan to sleep with the worms
Some emcees don't like me, but I'm not concerned, yeah
I′ll pull the slaver into cattle that′ll preserve every word
Got styles harder than liquid now
I'll make a move with the Garcia Vegas and the tools
Emcees are Doomed, I′m leaving whole crews fatal wounds
So bring your shield, steel, and your skill sicker

The best thing since the invention of the wheel
I'm Hi-Tek, going, flowing, foreign object
You got to hustle on the side, and projects worldwide make it known
Wanna battle? Niggas can′t be cloned
The epitome and Gods giving enemies the microphones
They explode on sight, we tearing up land
Like Japan, so every man better hold tight
Wack emcees with pens? That's a sin
Don′t make a move, doom the beginning of the end

I kick this shit for my peeps and all those who seek
The unthinkable information for the streets
Things is fucked up in the belly of the beast
To give my mind some peace, I kick this shit for peeps
And all those who seek the unthinkable
Information for the streets
Things is fucked up in the belly of the beast
To give my mind some peace
I kick this shit for peeps and all those who seek


I'm known to defeat mobs, teach hives, watch and get street jobs
Sicking killer journals on those who wanna meet God
From the unknown, we're prophets of an ill call
80 G′s, low key, locked in a steel vault
Now that′s the combination
Timothy McVeigh type thoughts, the word react, abomination
I bomb a nation, spark an L and make a toast (toast)
This the foremost (Most) bumping reggae rhythms by Don Carlos

I'm here testing the red resin, my crew spread, expressing
For good greens, I′m running hood scenes instead of stressing
Them grim cops who watch crop spots or young jakes
Up in the locks, dropping dimes on head that clock knots
I roam streets on chrome elites, I used to bone freaks
At phone reach, but now my time is spent with Tone's beats

I kick this shit for my peeps and all those who seek
The unthinkable information for the streets
Things is fucked up in the belly of the beast
To give my mind some peace, I kick this shit for peeps
And all those who seek the unthinkable
Information for the streets
Things is fucked up in the belly of the beast
To give my mind some peace
I kick this shit for peeps and all those who seek

Check it out, uh
One love to the streets
One love to the streets
One love to the streets
Check it out, uh
One love to the streets
Check it out, uh
One love to the streets
Check it out, uh
One love, one love huh