Intro: beretta 9 & killa sin      Yo. smell that gun powder in the air?    Yo. I smell it, kid.   Shit is like this everyday when I wake up.   We do this shit all time, kid.   It's a war zone.   It ain't nothing new over here.   Word up.   You know?    Killarmy time. military thing.   Shaolin thing.   It's born, build nigga.   Gotta civilize.   Yo. check it out. yo. yo.      Chorus: beretta 9      Where I rest at niggaz scheme at plot   Sling rocks, stars, cops over on our block and get fought   Bust a shot and get shot, smoke pot, get locked   Do a bid, while some taught to resurface to the street   Some don't last, won't weep   Where I rest at keep a vest and a gat at least three ways back   So, the flash can't track, where I rest at do the one to time   Double dirty crossed sneeky snake fucks, where I rest at      [killa sin]   Kid, but where I rest at the crime wave be jumping off   Like suicide, commitors on a busy highway with they clothes off   The fire trucks, trust, bull swine, blow your draws off   The nine year olds toying with his sword off   He can hardly tie his nikes up right, so how the fuck you blow his toes off   >from modernized, so are common, coarsed, where I rest at   Steping out the front doors is set back   The warzone, the death trap, waiting to consume those who get trapped   Shaolin, the villianous island filled with hidden pure-breds   Killing niggaz who thrive on the forbidden rituals   Or getting you in the drop, fuck sticking moves   The pick you almost mentally popped like scotty pippen   Most niggaz fame is almost chain gangs in state prisons   Wu-tang reign this worldwide cave for dirty richmen      (chorus)      [shogun assasson]   Yo, yo, I dwell in the slum, roll amongst the bums   Like ? hai-shews? , while ignorant brothers strive to get jewels   Hustling rocks on the blocks and get caught be crooked cops   A ? haitian mamila? , you might get a way if you got enough stamina   And escape death valley, filled with crack alleys   ? crock? these bricks and boulders at niggaz who think they real-live soldiers   I make my money from here to ? edo? , seventh street   Where the crackheads meet and walk on the block like cops on the beat   Too many heads draw heat, so I keep it short and sweet, stay on my feet   'cause niggaz'll step on your toes, and I peeped you strategy   To change your name to jealousy, your man's name is envy   That's why your mad at me, 'cause I start tackling shit   And lock down the whole strip, and you won't make shit   'cause I got that white-white and my shit sells all night   I got what the fiends like, it was meer black in the back off his pants   Plotting on these savage cats, how to make them run all they scratch   And stick them for all they gats, don't ever cross me   I'm precise the ? heed? , and it be on where I rest at      (chorus)      [beretta 9]   Where I rest at...