Blood on the Cobblestones - U-God, Ghostface Killah, Apollo Brown

Ayo it’s war on the street, blood on the cobblestone

I leave 'em buried alive, just like a fossil bone

Body bags line the streets, reporters reportin'

Mafia ties, drugs and extortion

DeLucas vs. Stark-iano, headline the news

Police pull war on crime, they’re gonna lose

Judges get kidnapped, captains get decapitated

Starks rise above all to be emancipated

Black Godfather, families at war

Drive bys and Molotovs settle the score

Butcher shops are filled with chopped up casualties

I made sure to keep guns in all my faculties

The streets run red when the bosses disrespect us Neglected, I guarantee no man’s protected

To each his own, grab a gun off the shelf

Cause in a warzone, the call is every man for self

Cause in a warzone, the call is every man for self

Cause in a warzone, the call is every man for self

How you prepare for war?

Grab your guns and your hardware

Never close your eyes in the barber chair

The heart of a lion, that’s what got him here

Bulletproof the car, yo, we outta here

Fuck the DeLucas, we’ve got shooters with submachines

Bone-crushing niggas like a football team, under a new regime

The old we throw it out, spin back the hammer, let the lord sort 'em out

Keep your gun cocked, at the whorehouse, sip the brown liquor

While we move a quarter ounce, pick the territories

Move north or south, the high power shine, yours is watered down

I’m underground, with the vest is on, open up your head

Now your flesh is torn, never turn my back up at restaurants

Put holes in your chest, come test the don

45 in my holster, let me stretch my arms

So the DeLucas want Tone?

Nah, not today

Cock and spray, side with 'em and you’ve got to pay

Don’t even kill 'em, just make 'em feel a lot of pain

Stake out his wife and his seed at the soccer game

Greet 'em with open arms, beat 'em with no regard

Feed 'em two two-threes, freeze 'em, leave 'em with no resolve

Make a lead on me, repping for the territory

No stepping on me, brethren that’s a negatory

You want a war?

These men pop dangerous

Taking all in a 10 block radius

Murder rate double, triple, cripple the strip

Like it got hit with a couple of missiles

8 will fly through your door, I’ll get in your crib

In a wig, in a cable guy uniform

My shooters maneuver, we’ve got DeLuca in the scope

Moving close, say the word, Tone, dude is ghost