Intro: Beretta 9 & Killa Sin

Yo. Smell that gun powder in the air?

Yo. I smell it kid.

Shit is like this everyday when I wake up.

We do this shit all time kid.

It's a war zone.

It ain't nothing new over here.

Word up.

You know?

Killarmy time. Military thing.

Shaolin thing.

It's Born build nigga.

Gotta civilize.

Yo. Check it out. Yo. Yo.

Chorus: Beretta 9

Where I rest at niggaz scheme at plot

Sling rocks, stars, cops over on our block and get fought

Bust a shot and get shot, smoke pot, get locked

Do a bid, while some taught to resurface to the street

Some don't last, won't weep

Where I rest at keep a vest and a gat at least three ways back

So, the flash can't track, where I rest at do the one to time

Double dirty crossed sneeky snake fucks, where I rest at

[Killa Sin]

Kid, but where I rest at the crime wave be jumping off

Like suicide, commitors on a busy highway with they clothes off

The fire trucks, trust, bull swine, blow your draws off

The nine year olds toying with his sword off

He can hardly tie his nikes up right, so how the fuck you blow his toes off

>From modernized, so are common, coarsed, where I rest at

Steping out the front doors is set back

The warzone, the death trap, waiting to consume those who get trapped

Shaolin, the villianous island filled with hidden pure-breds

Killing niggaz who thrive on the forbidden rituals

Or getting you in the drop, fuck sticking moves

The pick you almost mentally popped like Scotty Pippen

Most niggaz fame is almost chain gangs in state prisons

Wu-Tang reign this worldwide cave for dirty richmen

(Chorus)