We Got This – Cappadonna – letras

[Intro: Pike]Yo, hold up, yo you know what..S.I., Staten Island, niggaz, yo, yo[Pike]Ain’t no more talkin’ money or fameI’m stalkin’ this game, and when I’m doneI’m stickin’ the fork in this game and run clutchin’ my gunName P.I., place S.I., N.Y.CCaramel papi chulo, mammies vena queLet’s see if you could stop meI beat it like a one man posse, I leave it wet and sloppyI’m cocky, at times laid back, like to keep my fade backA lot of niggaz about to get paid back (HOOOOO!)Because a lot cats that don’t like meI guess they thought I took it lightyBut I rhyme and make you niggaz wanna fight meI’ll melt a nigga like a icey, and wipe ’em up with a towelStill on the prowl, how bout? It’s Staten Isle, I’m foulThe same time I got respect for what’s realWho said Staten Island niggaz ain’t real?You dead wrong, and took you tied up with a red thongFor goin’ against The StruggleWe squeeze on the team, crash your huddle[Lounge Mode]Well I’m known in the hood like CastellanoYou could see me in the fiddy, puffin’ H. ArmanoDoin’ eighty on the Belt’, follow signs to VerrazanoI keep two guns in my hood like paisanoMy style iller than ill, I’m sick like Alzheimer’sA bugged cat, ready to bring back old dramaIf it wasn’t for the Slash, what could I tell mammaGod damn, it’s bad blood between brick and the mud (HOOOOO!)Brick and the thugs, shittin’ on loveTurned over on the newest, start spittin’ the snubMy flow is nice and I ain’t worried about them hoes at nightFor my wife and seeds, gotta get this dough shit rightI’m analyzin’, a look how the pro’s get ripeAnd number 16, yeah, I want it showin’ the lightsI rep the hood, gotta respect the goodEven the ones that left the hood, bitch![Chorus: Lounge Mode (all) w/ ad-libs]Car hard suits, Timb boots and millimeters(We got this, we got this)Hoes and fancy cars and smokin’ reefersCellies and beepers (we got this)Hoodies and sneakers (we got this)[Remedy]Yo, it’s the smoked out white boy back on the blockWith the thirty eight snubbed nosed, tucked in his sockFrom the H-Block, Huegonaut, part of the rockShaolin, Staten Isle, and I love hip hopAnd when it comes to the kid, man, shit ain’t easyI Lounge with the Cappa D. and L.O. Beezy (I see you!)You sees me? Yeah, yo, believes meThe Code:Red for life click, racoons need meDuh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh, I got thisRock this, radio drop thisThe Code:Red’s for real, yo, you can’t stop thisNone of ya’ll muthafuckas out there could block thisJumped in the whips, all dipped down lowReady for a trip, to where, I don’t knowNo matter where we go, you can’t stop the flowThe heat’s on, gun’s drawn, what’s up, yo?[Cappadonna]Aiyo, my spit never tasted good, I’m sourI spit for the money and I spit for powerThen I lean on ya’ll like the Eiffel TowerAnd to my Staten Isle niggaz, that’s my heartI might leave for a minute, but could never departYeah, I’m married to this bitch and I’m still fuckin’I’m in the hood where the guns is nothin’And niggaz don’t say shit, like E.F. HuttonParanoid like Bush, press the buttonDon’t make me grab the boomers and get disgustin’Poppy Wardrobe King, Code:Red ProductionPillage for life niggaz, the hoes that’s crushin’To all my niggaz that went out bustin’Grindin’, the black Timbs on, wild out, hustlin'(We got this, we got this)[Chorus]