7 Sign (Bizzy Bone)

Bizzy:
Yeah, this for all you non-believers, especially out in the
 C-O. Man, fuck y'all niggas.
Yeah, I'm (tatted) so when I die, you can see what's deep 
in my eye [my eye].
Maje$ty:
7 Sign . . .
Bizzy:
Voodoo got you, too, who shot you, who pop you, glock you 
and stop you [stop you, stop you].
Voodoo got you, too, who shot you, who glock you, pop you 
and stop you [stop you, stop you].

Nigga, this Mo Thug and we can get fucked-up even if I'm 
under surveillance, I watch out, wanna win, and fuck 'em up
 daily, throwin' up 7, what am I yellin'? Murderer. Nigga, 
once you come must be like crazy if you [Muthafucka, don't 
play me] play me. Nigga, not today. I see you but you can't
 see me. I know with all of government and, yes, this will 
get crazy and blow [bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb].

Maje$ty:
Got your mind blown, vocal tones keep it sewn, blastin' out
 your stereos or your headphones. The roots exploited 
clones; therefore, it's my job to describe the loudness, 
the habitat of rap survival kit. Artistic skin abrasion, so
 when 'em fadin' my worldly reflections, it's magnified to 
new levels of elevation.

Bizzy:
Seven sign, seven, seven sign, seven, seventh sign, C-O.
Yeah, now y'all know, yeah.
Yeah, I'm tatted so when I die, you can see what's deep in 
my eye [my eyes, my eyes].
Now, voodoo got you, then, who shot you, who pop you, glock
 you and stop you [stop you, stop you].

Look who got you, too, who shot you, who pop you, glock you
 and stop you [stop you, stop you].

Bizzy:
The Rip here to run in the street, and flippin' on police, 
yeah they know me, I'm not lonely, only, show me when the 
smoke clears, and at least I had my homie and a nigga, K, 
homie. All bitches, look into it as you want the real 
killa? Well, pull out your pistol, bitch, and shoot it, 
shoot it. And you knew it, too, when, when you looked in my
 eyes, I'm ready to die. And I hope my mama really loves 
me, 'cause daddy's bye-bye. Inner pride with the Ripsta, 
let 'em hit ya with the scripture, picture me loc'd out and
 smoked out with a half of fifth of (?).

Maje$ty:
Three sixty-five out of all the round trees, they'll be 
Japanese, Maje$ty's corruptin' record companies. Nigga, 
jump for cheese, catch sub-zero freeze and crack once the 
atmosphere brings the temperature back, slacks only in 
dress pants, have you ever danced with the devil in pale 
moonlight? I have. Hollywood niggas make me laugh. Sell a 
dream to 'em. Cash, no royality, grab they royal keys and 
dash. My overhead projects how ends meet to get fouled or 
ejected, lyrics was selected beyond my control, last door 
on the totem pole, pockets swoll from tape residue, last 
interview at Wendy's, Dave Thomas made a promise to let 
down smooth criminals gently if I'm fittin' to grab your 
earlobe and billion, this is big business, buy tapes, don't
 lend, niggas lent (?) while I scrap change for phillies, 
why grill me? Got bigger balls to chase waterfalls with 
Chili, explore on four wheels or foot, I bring it to that 
ass over the hook so when you slip, gossip. I ride up on 
it. I had to maintain my mental frame, and
now I'm Boneless, word sound 'til I'm foamin'. Cybergenics 
wanted my genes for clonin'. Disownin' heads like Romans 
fight rubber Trojans. More than civil suits make my 
longevity boost, articles and promotions make me more 
potent. Deadly to the mind, 'causin' somethin' to be blind,
 redefine lines entertwined with all mankind. Would that 
rain outshine divine Maje$ty shame, the boogie down Bronx 

is where the heart still remain.

Bizzy:
I'm a let a nigga know, you know what I'm sayin', just 
right off the bat. I gives a fuck about no nigga. Don't be 
no (corvie)-ass nigga. I'm tryin' to tell niggas that off 
the rip, off the rippa, baby.
[I must be losin' my mind . . .] I must be.

Where's the mob? Find your specialty, let's give this nigga
 a job. Is you ready for jail? Yes and no, but somebody's 
gonna try to rob. We can spar, but you gon' drop [drop], 
I'm a bomb, ready for war, will I p-pop pop, better look 
out for miles, been doomed since the womb. Will he put me 
in my tomb? I've been thuggin' so assume when I enter your 
room, boom. Stomped through Compton and cities y'all ain't 
never heard of, and listen, I bet there's thousand people 
screamin' out "murder, murderin' ya." Hypnotized, took off 
my shirt, I got a (?). I'm tatted so when I die you can see
 what's deep my eyes. Trues ride but trues die, my nigga, 
don't cry, I shedded my last tear when I found out love was
 a lie. So I try, but it ain't nothin' for my mental. So 
piss off my pencil, and I blast, dash in a rental. One 
nigga got (?) and off he in a trap with sawed-off they took
 a chance and lost, let's spray AK and make gangsta gone, 
don't finish the wars when they ain't over, I love you 
thugs, but all them skelet
ons got so close and they got so (?) if it ain't (?), this 
family that don't give a fuck who you are. It ain't nothin'
 like some trouble. How close? How far [how far, how far]?