Where Ya At Lyrics & Chords By D.i.t.c.

(Big Punisher)
Aiyyo it's funny dunn
The two nicest niggas unite as one
Collide the sun wit the moon, BOOM!!
I leave you brighted from
My full of clips, hawk the world into hell when a bullet spit
Crucifix myself to the sun, now who you wit?
Enter my world of doom, consume fear and feel the panic
I ram a lightning bolt between the earth and moon
And curl the planets
I'm ?palanatic? wit lyrics spannin for galaxies
Battle me, mathematically, I'm givin your wisdom a cavity
Rapidly flowin, controllin the time
Flip over the line, I'm blowin your mind wit just a flow and a rhyme
I'm Hogan in his prime, strong and fast
You can bomb and blast, c'mon, you'll still be on your ass
It's satisfaction guaranteed
Wit Fiction like Quentin Tarantin'
Kickin your baddest dreams, shit you haven't seen
I have to be perfectly honest
You should have an anniversary to acknowledge the way I work the ebonics
I verbally vomit on how much niggas try to get us
With garbage lyrics, my style delivers it as the Outer Limits
I'm like the pyramids cuz every point is precise
Now you know me for life
Six Pun, Cuban flooded wit ice

Chorus (Big Punisher) (Milano)
If I ain't home wit my fam (Where you at?)
Stash crib, cuttin grams (Where you at?)
Hung wit my niggas and we're rollin and controllin, hold that!
If I ain't deep in some ass (Where you at?)
I'm in the jeep wit the stash (Where you at?)
Hung wit my niggas and we're rollin and controllin, baby!

(Milano)
Yo I camel-clutch mics, a truce gahzuntite
Guess I'm allergic when shit ain't done right
You spread disease while the vaccine is what I write
Couldn't avoid this, sit tight
All aboard ship, on my voy-age
Purple Explorers, seven warriors my aura
You tied a ? and boredom, Milan bring more than offer
High exalted, boned a Lazarus scultptor
You penny-weight style
While my piece alone around three pounds
I had to serve nerds, and throw it down, stuck for a reason
Laid up a whole season, pen and pad style
Honeymooners like Jack Gleason
Blessin the whole reason
Until my niggas max out, hold the axe out
Whoever front, saw the procedure
All you thugs now wit misdemeanors
I seen ya'll in clubs, poppin Zima
Fake minks wit ninety percent of it beaver
Thought you was killin em?
I played the back wit two dime Brazilians
Cogniac and ice buckets, puttin a slight chill to them
Rock platinum like I sold a million
Trapped on my island like Gilligan
Really, Manhattan niggas here, you gotta feel em
It ain't hard, sent to Parkwest Hall
Straight up the Malcom Boulevard
Wit no bars, I write scriptures
Me on beats is a fatal attraction when I give you the business
Caught a dough virus for spittin sick shit
Got niggas like "Who is this?"
On this '99 classical edition

Chorus