Shyheim Lyrics As the youngest emcee down with the Wu, Staten Island mic ripper Shyheim impressed many heads freestyling with the Clan on Sway and Tech's Wake Up Show in the early 1990s. His first album Shyheim: AKA The Rugged Child was released in 1994 with gritty, East Coast production handled by RNS and the RZA. Despite his age, Shy displayed mammoth mic skills as both an aggressive battle rapper and a talented storyteller. Like his Shaolin brethren, his rhymes explore the senseless violence and commonplace chaos in today's hectic world. His third album, the autobiographical Manchild, was released in 1999, featuring tracks by RZA and appearances from Method Man and the late great Big L. Download Shyheim MP3s here Buy rare Shyheim vinyl records, CDs and rare music albums: 21st Century Crisis Aka The Rugged Child Greatest Story Never Told    Manchild Shaolin Style    The Lost Generation This Iz Real

Shyheim Song Lyric: Jiggy Comin Phone rings twice* Hello? (arabic voice) you have a collect call phone call In a new york state correctional facility Press five five to accept, or hang up to decline Verse one: Whattup gangstas, how tha fuck y’all feel We keepin it real, and hold on tight to your steel Let them caps peel, one by one And laugh while the nig run He shoulda been packin his gun, now he gone Cuz he got slippin like an old bitch In the wet staircase shaft, now watch his man snitch To tha police, but them no worry me son I ain’t trying to get back it’d be my third felony Pataki he want to see us, criminals fry In the electric chair, but my spirit will never die A true project nigga, I won’t hesitate To pull the blaow, peace to all busy niggaz One love y’all stay safe And fuck you, officer brown, peace to that nigga case Chorus: repeat 4x Whoo whoo Jiggy comin, fuck tha police y’all, cuz I ain’t runnin Verse two: All y’all police can suck my diiiiiiick And mayor gulliani, that cracker boy full of shit I represent, for all my niggaz doing time And those who got beat up and killed by the swine Beo-tches, them porks, beotch Them think them bad, cuz they carry, glocks and badges And when I’m pimpin in my green acura They pull me over, like I stole it from some nigga But all my paperwork is legit Registered insured in my name, so y’all pigs can shit Police be cockin me like I’m some dime piece A g from the street so I can never turn beast Chorus Verse three: There’s crooked cops, that’s why they get shot by tha minute If you were criminal and you ready to represent, kid Blaow, that’s how I like it, word is bond My hair ain’t blonde my eyes ain’t blue so now I’m dead boo It’s on like this is war, all my brothers in the hood I gots fam that’s constant understand I wish they would But it’s all good, peace to my niggaz locked in jail Bushy kam, killa kane, fogey foo, and ale Down low wrecka and junior be on storm Keep your headz up, and keep it real cuz you know I’m gonna And for my niggaz doin six months I see yo ass next summer, word up Chorus Get This Ringtone 5 Elements Can You Feel It Dear God Jiggy Comin Life as a Shorty On And On Real Bad Boys See What I See Shaolin Style Shit Iz Real Still There Things Happen What Makes The World Go Round

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