Lyrics: Killarmy. Other. Which Way You Going.

(feat. Solomon Childs)

[Intro: Beretta 9 (girl)]
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, what up mira, what up mira?
(Get the fuck off my arm, man)
Check it, check it out, right
This Beretta 9 from the Killarmy crew
What's up ma? Two ?? and I'm ripped (Si, eat it)
Yo, I love pretty birds, what's up
You rollin' with me? (Who the fuck you callin' a bird)
(?? la chocha) Yo we don't eat dead birds, honey

[Beretta 9]
What up sweet thing? Lookin' like prom queen, eat bitch
Snake out our dough and do the same thing
But yo love, beat love to be love, you got to make love
Slow jams, candles and shit, word up
While she work it, curved dick, between her pink lips
Your girlfriends buggin' and shit, check out her hips
Yo, the God must slayin' it well, guaranteed
Broke it straight then, the virgin holograms, the misfits
Big ass, big tits, shorty was raised on grits
Tall glasses of milk, her grandson was biscuits
But mad shit she lack, like a girl, she react
Kings need queens, not no silly dingbats
Sugar and spice, but yo, you ain't that nice
Leave your ass fast, and won't think twice

[9th Prince]
Yo, live at the barbeque, two blocks down from Park Avenue
Sky was blue, shorty was dressed like a groom
Titties and ass round like balloons
Chinky eyes I analyzed, took my time like an old man that's wise
I pushed up, what up buttercup?
Probably ebonics, the slang her stuck
My jewely was truck, from the moment I spoke
Bitch almost choked on a note, she fell in love
Like Cinderella, I said my name was 9th Prince, boo
Yeah, but you can call Cinde-fella

[Chorus: P.R. Terrorist]
Which way you going? I think we goin' that way too
Girl, where your friends at? Introduce them to my crew
We be the livest M.C.'s in the game, you heard boo? You heard boo? Yo

[P.R. Terrorist]
Which way you going? I think we goin' that way too
Yo, where your friends at? Introduce them to my crew
Harmonize after thick thighs had me hypnotized
To analyze and cease for a minute, before I advertised
A young ass, we used to cut class, smoke greenish bags
Back to 49 junior high, I was a bad ass
Bringin' heat to school, pattin' me down was the principal
Nothin' he would do, gettin' suspended was the usual
In the boy's room, they in the vacant classroom
Pokin' fast, got her tight womb, too many come to soon
But I was young, her little tongue'll get my dick hard
She feels, tuckin' her tits up in the schoolyard
Took her virginity in Catholic School Trinity
Promised that you by first love to infinity

[Chorus x2]

[Solomon Childs]
Yo, what the deal Miss Chocolate?
Got us some of French twist, Gucci boots, cover girl body
'88, the Adora hotty, Mary J. Blige body, mahogany queen
Body rollin' round at a slow pace
Can't make lamb of girl, this the softest place
Playin' with the cucci at the fireplace
Catch I, flicks and hundred dollar kicks, lingerie, red cherry
Kitty kats stickin' out the popcorn schrimp and strawberries
Bubble baths and chocolate milk, candle lights after dark
Back shots, late night, in the park
Solomon Childs, good girl, you heard?
B.B. Conduct, crushin', forever crushin'

[Chorus x2]

[Outro: P.R. Terrorist]
Let me holla at you, yeah, quick conversation
Yeah, yo