Artist: Hawk & Kryme Album: Exit 13 Song: Screwed Up Typed by: Cno Evil [Intro: Kryme Life] Uh, Kryme Life, nigga, yeah T.M.F. to death, yeah, New York shit Nahmean, yeah, same top of the what? Of course we back... so... Kryme Life, yo [Kryme Life] Hit you with them things, from point blank range And I won't miss, make niggas feel the pain We gorillas in the myst, wanna go against the grain Rip 'em from limb to limb, stick you from jewels to Timbs Yo, this Kryme Life I live it, every sentence, we spitting Fake niggas can't relate, make no mistakes Who's the realest, uh, The Most Feared, it's about to get pretty hot Lock and load, control city blocks Claiming you making moves (fools) but you really not You perpertrating fraud, no escaping the war Coming for all ya'll, on top, taking you off Scrape you off, something proper, it can go down If it gotta, fuck them niggas who killed Big Poppa (Love you Big), show stoppa, the sickest niggas in town Don't see doctors, spread the virus around Break beats, music to my ears, loving the sounds See Kryme in the streets, he be making his rounds Grap you up by the news, then I'm taking you down On or off fields, spin on or off reel Fuck throwing up the shield, I hit you from your waist to your heels Just to let you know shit's real [Chorus: Kryme Life] You got your face screwed up, like you can't get touched Come on, we will pop you We lost enough niggas, taking yours, mean nothing to us Let's go, we will pop you You see my face? Take another look, you see my waist Aiyo, we will pop you I'm telling you kid, we out here handling biz Understand, we ain't playing with this, we gotta live [Kryme Life] Yo, it's the profound, King Beef killa grounds Spin around, send ya hood into ghost town Stapleton, yeah, that's Ghost town The Kryme coming next in line, for mine, I'mma throw down And I ain't coming to compete with niggas, but whatever See ya era, I'm deleting niggas, the ball snap I'm like Sapp, on the defense, nigga Coming at cha, you know what that mean, I'mma sack ya Black bag ya, let the morgue freeze tag ya No more dry snitching on wax, weak rappers Is too comfortable and relaxed, talk shit That's extra hard, but when they walk strips, hire extra guards T.M.F. in this bitch, peep the repertoire Toss more fire, torch niggas with lesser bars Livewires, we love going against the odd When it transpire, of course, niggas bet to dodge If they know what's good for 'em, but he can't hide Got eyes, all over the hood for 'em Yeah, my street team, back in effect Styling on these record exec's Now my music got 'em cutting the check [Chorus 2X]