Word up, son, I heard they got you on the run Filled with body, now it's time to stash the guns They probably got the phone tap so I won't speak long Gimme a half second and I'ma put you on It's all messed up, somebody's snitchin on the crew And word is on the street is they got pictures of you Homicide came to the crib last night, six deep axin on your whereabouts, so where d'you sleep? They said they just wanna question you bet me and you know that once they catch you, all they do is just arrest you then arraign you, hang you, I don't think so It's a good thing you bounced but now you're stayin low Once in a blue I check ta see how ya doin I know you need loot so I send it thru Western Union They probably knock down the door in the middle of the night, sometimes around four Hopin to find who they're lookin for but they want ta see All they gonna find is mad empty bags of weed But worse, son, you got the projects hotter than hell Harder for brothers to get their thug on but oh well Son, they know too much, even the hoodrat chicks Oh, you heard who did what and why I don't this shit So stop askin, then I know I'm not goin crazy From windows I see lights flashin and maybe somebody's takin pictures You know who that be, police lovers and neighbourhood snitches They put up *?pertice?* so everybody's pointin fingers and lyin, aiyo son, the temp is risin
Chorus:
The temperature's risin, no there's nothin surprisin The temperature's risin, huh and nothin's surprisin The temperature's risin, huh and there's nothin surprisin The temperature's risin (There's nothin surprisin)
(Prodigy)
What up, black? Hold your head wherever you at On the flow from the cops or wings on your backs That snitch nigga gave police your location We'll chop his body up in six degrees of separation Killer listen, shit ain't the same without you at home Phony niggas walk around tryin to be your clone They really fear you, when you was at home you was pale That's why they wanna see you either dead or in jail By the time you hear this rhyme you probably be locked up tried to hussle, where along the lines your plan slipped up Got caught up in a crime that you can't take back Reminisce on how I use to pick you up in the Ac Years ago when we was younger seemed the hood took us under very deep Wonderin who snitched and got me losin lots of sleep at night, you know my mouth is tight I never sang to the cops cos that shit ain't right Sometimes I stroll past the scene of the crime and backtrack Damn, why the situation go down like dat? It'll be a long time before the heat dies down In a couple of years, fool we'll see you around But til then maintain and keep ya story the same The cops is grabbin wrong niggas, lookin for someone to blame They harrassin, strugglin to find the truth Is it a chance ya case'll get thrown out cos they ain't got no proof To say you're guilty, your fingerprints filthy Deliver me the gun, I'll tie two, quickly throw it in the river Make sure it's safe to the bottom Our smart police snuck you out at the projects, we got em But still, but still, but still......
Chorus x3
(Surprisin) *repeat to fade*
Compositores: Patrice L. Rushen, Fred Douglas Washington Jr., Kamaal Ibn John Fareed, Kejuan Waliek Muchita, Albert J Johnson, Lynn Blythe Davis (Lynn Davis) ECAD: Obra #45762613