Artist: Masta Killa
Album:  MK Exclusives
Song:   Medina (East New York)
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Intro: Masta Killa]
It's original, everything we do
Everything we do, is original
It's from the heart, that's right
Always remember that, we keep it original
That's right, the foundation

[Masta Killa]
We was known for sad love ballads and guns
The rude one beg no friend, the selection's threatening
Never hesitate, dusty murder gun, tray eight
Bust head, known to regulate
War physically on the rule to rule a date
All I can recall was white and bright lights
The doctors and nurses, drunked the old earth
And killed the pain of the breech birth
Under the influence, I arrived at Brooklyn Jewish
Now a tree grows, standing ovation
Peace signs, salute to my nation
Brooklyn, it's good to be home
Gun shot blown, stay calm, don't be alarmed
Respect is being shown, for real
Weight like six sex till, followed by the walk-by
Intensify pressure apply to the hands that hold mics
Strike like the Pai Me Nine

[Interlude: Masta Killa]
Peace, my nigga (yeah)
That's that funny style ass nigga over there
Ain't nothin' changed, still hot out here
Snitches...

[Masta Killa]
It's about 90 degree, in the project
Two bedroom, no A.C., God Degree low
Metal fans spinnin' hot air slow
I refuse to go, I'm determined to build
Watch me turn gas into million stacks of cash
Never lost on the cook-up, niggas can't walk the grounds
From which they came
Foundation never was strong, you ain't the same
Brothers is doing real time, it's not a game
Straight poet, no comeback, check out how the fiends react
Yo, shots lick, Wu lots and Nash' fit
Not many walk the streets, if not, few deep
Niggas get robbed by bitches in they sleep
He didn't understand, how well connected
How fast that ass get sent to the essence
My mic blessing, from the 120 Lesson
Crys' and the Henny' to seed, when I breath
One Blood, guest star me and Junior Reid
Meet me at the highest peak, God Mountain
Twenty nine thousand and some, from the Slum
They love gun, who you think taught 'em how to bust them, son?
Yo, who you think taught 'em how to bust them, son?

[Interlude: Masta Killa]
Yo, yeah, that's how they do it
When I'm writing I'm trapped in between the lines
I escape, yo...
Chill with the feedback, black we don't need that
Nah, they don't need that bullshit
Heh, shame on you, when you step through to
Ya'll muthafuckas know

[Masta Killa]
Bullet fragment, the colorful brain has his name
He earned that stripe, no question, that's his lesson
Cut amongst organizations, then snitched?
You bitch, actin' like you thug and...