|
Hey yo, Queen's get the money long time no cash |
|
I'm caught up in the hustle when the guns go blast |
|
The fool retaliated so |
|
I had to think fast |
|
Pull out my heat first, he pull out his heat last |
|
Now who the fuck you think is livin' to this day? |
|
I'm tryin' to tell these young niggas crime don't pay |
|
They looked at me and said, "Queen's niggas don't playDo your thing, I'll do mine, kid stay outta my way" |
|
It's type hard tryna survive in |
|
New York state |
|
Can't stop till |
|
I'm eatin' off a platinum plate |
|
Po po comes around and tries to relocate me |
|
Lock me up forever but they can't deflate me' |
|
Cause havin' cash is highly addictive |
|
Especially when you're used to havin' money to live with |
|
I thought step back look at my life as a whole |
|
Ain't no love it seems the devil done stole my soul |
|
I'm out for delfia, selfia, |
|
P's not helpin' ya |
|
I'm tryna get this |
|
Lexus up, and plus a cellular |
|
Yo Big Noyd! |
|
I can't cope(What up cuzin'?) |
|
With all these crab niggas tryna shorten my rope |
|
Yo, it's the |
|
R, a double |
|
P, E, R, N, |
|
O, Y, DNiggas can't fuck with me, comin' straight outta |
|
QBPushin' an |
|
Infiniti, you ask, can |
|
I rip it constantly? |
|
Mentally?Definitely, to the death of me, come and test me |
|
Trust me, nigga couldn't touch me if he snuff me |
|
So bust me, you're gonna have to, 'cause |
|
I'ma blast you |
|
My lyrical like a miracle, ill spiritual |
|
I'm born wit' it, |
|
I'm gettin' on wit' it |
|
An' I'ma have it 'til |
|
I'm fuckin' dead and gone wit' it' |
|
Cause I'm a what? |
|
Composer of hardcore, a lyrical destructor |
|
Don't make me buck ya, 'cause |
|
I'm a wild muthafucka |
|
You know my flow, you know my stilo |
|
Even pack my gat when |
|
I go to see my |
|
POJump out my hooptie, pass my gat and my lucci to my shorty |
|
In case my |
|
PO try to troop me to the island |
|
And if I start wildin', flippin' on niggas walkin' around |
|
Wit' da nice gold medallions |
|
But she didn't violate me, so |
|
I escaped, see |
|
Back to Queen's pumpin' the fiends makin' more cream |
|
Know what |
|
I mean? I'm a natural born hustler |
|
Won't try to cut ya, pull out my 44 and bust ya |
|
Yo babe, no time for fakin' jacks' |
|
Cause niggas who fake jacks get laid on their backs |
|
The streets is real can't roll without steel |
|
I feel how |
|
I feel 'cause |
|
I was born to kill |
|
Do what I gotta, to eat a decent meal |
|
Brothers is starvin', don't try to find a job son |
|
It's all about robbin', so don't be alarmed |
|
When we come through 'cause we supposed to |
|
If you opposed to get your face blown dude off the map' |
|
Cause I react, attack a brother wasn't blessed with wealth |
|
So I act like that drug dealin' |
|
I'm frontin' on the world once |
|
I start 4-wheelin'' |
|
Cause back on the 41st side we do a ride |
|
Sippin' E& |
|
J, gettin' bent all night |
|
Yo, who dat? |
|
I never seen him in my whole life |
|
Step to his business 'cause it's only right |
|
Po po ain't around so |
|
I grab my pound |
|
Money retaliated so |
|
I hit the ground |
|
My life is on the line gotta hold my projects down |
|
Can't see myself gettin' bodied by a clown-ass nigga |
|
That ain't even from my town |
|
Hit him up in the chest |
|
And now he's layin' me down dead |
|
And up from under the benches, |
|
I started hearin' sirens |
|
I stop firin', he cut ass like a diamond |
|
Jetted to the cribpiece, what a relief |
|
Stashed the heat then proceeded to peep out the window |
|
Call my son, "Yo son, we got beef but no questionMoney had a problem so I solved him" |
|
I got my mind on the stick-up, now it's time to get paid |
|
Thinkin' of ways to take loot already made |
|
There's crime in the air, ain't no time to be afraid |
|
Gimme yours and get laid, give up the goods and get sprayed |
|
I got lots of love for my crew, that is |
|
No love for them other crews and rival kids |
|
All them out-a-town niggas know what time it is |
|
And if they don't they need to buy a watch |
|
Word up, caught up in the crossfire get theyself hurt |
|
While I be sippin' gin straight in a plastic cup |
|
On a park bench on 12th |
|
St., my whole crew's famous |
|
You tried to bust your gat and keep it real but you nameless |
|
First of all, slow down, you on the wrong route |
|
Let me put you on your feet and show you what's it all about |
|
The street life ain't nuttin' to play with, no jokes, no games kid |
|
For years |
|
I been doin' the same shit |
|
Just drinkin' liquor, doin' bids, extortin' crack heads |
|
And stickin' up the stick-up kids |
