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Hit Em' Up (Zion I)

Street blocks to tree tops, sweet spots found The diction to detox, three Pac's now He walks with, he talks like me, I'm sound Conviction to beat knocks, from my head to my cheap socks Underneath Living Legends Reebok's I'm bound to free speech thoughts, seep around rocks Volcanic or crack, hard to hold back Go with the flow, know what you know and show that Too relevant, but I go back like keggers on a hill, five on a dope sack Smoke stack, think Ac', shrink wrap Rap with a shrink before you and ink the tat That's permanent, life learnin' it, pat Never wanna see the world turn into a track I ain't runnin' no game, small time, no names If we one in the same, you gunnin' for change Amp, Hit 'Em with a "one" (Zion, Hit 'Em with a "one, two") Go on and count me in, now "one, two, three" (Universal how we pen the styles) (Amp, Hit 'Em with a "one") Grouch, Hit 'Em with a "one, two" (Go on and count me in, now "one, two, three, four") They feelin' the styles Hey, I got this Blues train runnin' all through to my veins Slave ships, Middle Passage, crack cocaine Ten slap in the 'Lac, corner boys ground packs In the belly of the beast where the life go flat But the music is the remedy, inhale my rhythm steadily Perched on the curb, watch church converge It's the meeting of the minds, at time, light occurs How we cultivated words like they sacred herbs Put it in your pipe and puff it, squares can't touch it Rough and rugged, how you love it, with no budget Independent game, man, with my slang tang You can do the same thang, utilize your damn brain Metaphors are mountains, countless bouncin' A multitude in viewed, clubs and houses We rain like fountains to wash it clean I'm in the back with my mug on mean, my whole team {Amp, Hit 'Em with a "one"} (Grouch, Hit 'Em with a "one, two") Go on and count me in, now "one, two, three, four" (Universal how we pen the styles) (F.A.B., Hit 'Em with a "one") {And Zion, Hit 'Em with a "one, two"} (Go on and count me in, now "one, two, three, four") They feelin' the styles Let the beat give life to dead souls The rhymes turn wienies to red bulls The feelin' is a whole nother level The drums, the bass, the snares and the treble So let it go, count me in, I'm on all corners Winter, summer, spring, then I fall on ya My mindstate define great, the crime rate Got me irate, it's high stake, so why wait? Move now, roll out Hate it when Hip Hop's finest sold out My gold out, but I'm pourin' my soul out I never change, only my shows get sold out So, what's the science? Don't be defiant My music turn midgets to giants, just try it Go crazy, riot, Grouch and Zion Mistah F.A.B. is who I am Amp, Hit 'Em with a "one" (Grouch, Hit 'Em with a "one, two") Go on and count me in, now "one, two, three, four" (Universal how we pen the styles) (Amp, Hit 'Em with a "one") {And Zion, Hit 'Em with a "one, two"} (Go on and count me in, now "one, two, three, four") They feelin' the styles