Letras: Mathematics. The Problem. Winta Sno.

(feat. Ali Vegas, Eyeslow, L.S.)

[Intro: Eyeslow (sample)]
(If you got something to say
Why don't you just come out and say it)
Brother's grave... hey let me tell you something
Knawhatimean, we up in here, man
Favorite the rapper, of favorite the rapper
Like my nigga Ali Vegas would say, youknowhatimsayin
If your ghost writer's ghost writer, ask around

[Chorus x2: L.S.]
When the wind blows
And we know, you ain't gon' find ya way home
Storm gets cold
Try'nna see through rain, hail, sleet, snow

[Eyeslow]
From off the devil's ledge
Come the throughbread, dagger double edge
Hammer sledge, can't be no rap Quentin Tarantino
Rhymin' like G and Nino, I'm convinced, I'm the best
Spittin' none to less, fuck the rest, I'm unimpressed
Don't make me get the gun and vest, and make examples
I used to make samples, and pass them out
Now I keep the ratchet by the pillow when I'm crashin' out
So I'm never caught sleepin', get caught creepin' and that ass is out
Eyeslow's the name, the ruger to your brain
Left a blood stain on the passenger side of your range
Fuck the games, the circle dot dot and the cootie shots
I leave my tooly cocked, and strip a game to his booty socks

[Chorus x2]

[Ali Vegas]
I play the block like Elgin, do
They said they could die young, that make me eligible
My baby brother said when you on top
Niggaz intend to wanna put lead in you
But when you on the bottom, niggaz wanna step on you
I told 'em, don't worry, I'm two guns ahead of you
But when you shining again, they wanna rep with you
They say you are what you eat, so ya'll can't blame me
This year I turn brolic niggaz into vegetables
And my back against the wall, and I'm brawlin'
You act hard and I'm stallin', streets ain't come with caller ID's
So I couldn't see when God was callin', the odds was fallin'
Grab two arms and clap and applaude, and look
Y'all want problems? Ya'll welcomed like the door mat
Ya'll bore cats, with your store bought raps
And ya'll had to study my format, ya'll want war?
Ya'll ain't ready for war yet, yea you rich, but you can't
Really afford that, you ain't study your forty eight laws yet
Plus I got the blueprints, to where you snore at
See how these critics do? They get critical
Then they get political, one line can get rid of you
They say I chase the top two, well if this is true
Wouldn't I have to remove the paper to fill in the picture drew
You niggaz do like these chickens do
Sit around, and gossip, like ya'll ain't got shit to do
I'm startin' to think, it's not what I say, but the shit I do
No record out, still my digits grew
Niggaz sayin' Veg' signed to Motolla, nope
Get your rumors straight, Vegas is signing Motolla
I think it's about, time that I told ya
I spend so much time in the Rover, fuck the beat
I rhyme to the motors, sittin' on 20's, providing I own 'em
The flow's low like I was rhyming in shoulder
Then I speed it up -- gotta pardon me ya'll
I was dippin' from traffic, at the time that I wrote 'em
Ya'll know 'em, you wanna shine? Your best bet is to stand in the sun
Not a blood or a crip, like vendetta in the slum
I don't give pounds, unless I'm handing them guns
And I don't weigh back, when I'm brandishin' one
To understand where I'm going, you gotta understand where I'm from
And ya'll ain't understanding me, huh?
Somewhere down the line, I guess we got loss
But I'mma stay hood, like cold chicken and hot sauce
So whose consumin' the throne, I put two in your dome
The only time my niggaz work, is for funeral home
Cuz they'll body kids, I cried when they body B.I.G
And I'mma hold Queens down, just like John Gotti did, what?

[Outro: L.S.]
When the wind blows..