Lyrics

Lay Em Down

I keep my mic on, grip it with my right palm, it’s warm.
Rip it with the lights on so roaches be gone.
You young players need to listen when the coaches be on or be warned,
this game is way above and beyond any song, any flow, any bomb, any blow,
any thongs, any dough, any charms, any gold, any props, any clothes,
any cops with the chrome, hip hoppers don’t clone, what we’ve got is our own,
I’m Rico, I’m reborn, be alarmed cuz it’s on and I’m armed
with God’s squad as my entourage, phony godfathers living large is all a mirage,
many starve, plenty cars, but no plans for tomorrow.
I answered the call from y’all, no holds barred,
rough, rugged and raw, something to even the score,
for the real kids, who want the realness of before.
Watch the face of the fake clowns when truth comes through the door
to lay ‘em down, boy…

Yo, it’s that young wild Puerto Rican lovechild, never speaking thug style,
my information’s compiled, they got at least one file on me,
why they wanna bomb me?
Cuz I roll with Jah’s army and the devil can’t harm me,
and my armor is hard to scar, cuz it’s God core,
y’all can stay hardcore, I’m trying to play an encore
for my people that want more from life
than guns, whores and ice, and drug wars at night.
I came up in that fight that’s rumble or die,
hunger inside my belly, man, barely alive,
I’m telling no lies, ask my sister how we got by,
with every body nodding and high, we forgot how to cry,
that’s why there’s fire in my eyes and you feel the heat of my rhymes,
each of my lines designed to reach deep in the mind
to help you seek your divine reason for being,
and if you’re a wordsmith to know the purpose of emceeing, boy, lay em down,

coro:
I lay em down, pick em up, baptize em with the bump,
I lay way underground, I been waiting just staying in the cuts,
I lay a stable ground that’s for the young bucks coming up,
I pray they stay away from clowns who say they don’t give a fuck ….


How they gonna call themselves Emcee?
When all they speak about is pimps and hoes and blood money,
guns, liquor and clothes, trucks, clubs and junkies, sex, drugs and Hum V’s,
violence in the streets, like it’s something funny?
Have you ever seen an O.D. victim?
Or the children who they give birth to, or the ones who just live with them?
Who come into this world suffering from withdrawal symptoms.
Those who make it through the beginning develop a little different.
Have you ever seen the bruise of an abused child,
the black and blues or the crooked toothed smile of a juvenile?
Ever wonder how a person gets suicidal?
Or how it must really feel to sell your body for survival?
Or when it’s somebody you know who the po-po trying to give life to,
or when it’s somebody you know who was at the wrong end of a rifle?
Or what does it really look like when you take a slug,
what are the consequences of being a fake ass thug?
Tell me what…