Lord Tariq - QBX (Scared to Speak) lyrics

{Tommy Gibbs} Times be desperate, spit ya best sh** In this business, on some life or d**h I've been high in these streets, cried in these streets Willing, but I'm trying not to die on these streets Got my mind on my stack, vibe on a track Hang with them cats that twist n***as back Gibbs moves state to state, cakin a stash I sware, trying to watch them there, don't wanna crash Destination far, got k**as in the car Minute we touch down, n***as know who we are Bubble in the spot, till it get too hot And then we blowin that one horse town back on the block In the mix, my click stay back to back We gon' the metal clap, till the sh** jump back Guarantee to get wet, when my bronze connect Make moves when it's on, straight bomb ya set Chorus 2x: Both Gibbs and Tariq Got ya scared to speak Cuz when it pop, ya might not drop But you gon leak Ready to die, two of the best from NY n***as feelin theyselves, it's welcome to try {Lord Tariq} The name of the father, son, holy ghost and spirit If it's rhymes, I'mma spit it, Dutch, I'mma split it Cash we gonna get it, Coke money to credit, we do it to debt it These rules and bet it, Loan to Tommy Gibbs By any means get cream n***a mob we is, BX to Queens Give a f** about the set you screen, the set you ream Cuz when I wave this motherf**in tech you lean Logic, we in it for the prophet Won't stop less the barricade, the white stone and cars lit Hot sh**, we spit, got sh** to get Doin are own thing, 90 in a slow lane Smoke the c**aine, trying to own things In a Jag, bumpin Cuban, you own grown things Two of the illest n***as, ain't sh** gon' change For this paper, I split ya brains, so get your things Chorus 2X {Tommy Gibbs} Bet it all on we, watch us push red line on these n***as Bring the whole squad, go hard on these n***as Ain't thinkin bout the law, just walk up to they door Beat them to the jaw, heat them to the floor Stop till they drill and they wrists is locked Funny how they ain't go no more sh** to pop Make it hot for the paper, you drop for the paper Run up in your spot, twin Glocks for the paper {Lord Tariq} Drug caper in the rap game, quick to pull a swami Met up with my O.Y.G. n***as in Miami Die for the cause together n***a we family They can't stand me, thugs up for a Grammy Feds wanna snatch me, they caught works and scriptures Think I don't see them in the club takin pictures Call the phone, hang up, times they say "We gonna get ya" If the studios bugged, with all respect Get off my dick son Chorus 2X