Life

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

...