Aight, fuck that shit! Word, word Fuck that other shit, y´know what I´m sayin´? We gonna do a lil somethin´ like this Y´know what I´m sayin´? (Stay up on that shit)
Keep it on and on and on and on and Know´m sayin´? Big Nas, Grand Wizard, God, what is it? (It´s like…) Haha, you know what I´m sayin´? Yo, go ahead and rip that shit, dun!
I rap for listeners, blunt heads, fly ladies and prisoners Hennessy-holders and old-school niggas, then I be dissin´ a Unofficial that smoke Woolie Thai I dropped out of Cooley High, gassed up by a cokehead cutie pie Jungle survivor, fuck who´s the live-r My man put the battery in my back, a difference from Energizer Sentence begins indented with formality My duration´s infinite, money-wise or physiology
Poetry, that´s a part of me, retardedly bop I drop the ancient manifested hip-hop straight off the block I reminisce on park jams, my man was shot for his sheep coat Choco blunts´ll make me see him drop in my weed smoke It´s real, grew up a trife life, the times of white lines, the high pipes Murderous night times and knife fights invite crimes Chill on the block with Cognac, cold strap With my peeps that´s into drug money market interact No sign of the beast in the blue Chrysler, I guess that means peace For niggas, no sheisty vice to just snipe ya Start off the dice-rollin´ mats for craps to cee-lo
With side-bets, I roll a deuce, nothin´ below (Peace God!) Peace God – now the shit is explained I´m takin´ niggas on a trip straight through memory lane It´s like that, y´all…
"Now let me take a trip down memory lane" "Comin´ outta Queensbridge" "Now let me take a trip down memory lane" "Comin´ outta Queensbridge" "Now let me take a trip down memory lane" "Comin´ outta Queensbridge" "Now let me take a trip down memory lane" "Comin´ outta Queensbridge"
One for the money Two for pussy and foreign cars
Three for Alizé, niggas deceased or behind bars I rap divine, God, check the prognosis: Is it real or showbiz? My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses Live amongst no roses, only the drama For real, a nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja Here´s my basis, my razor embraces many faces You´re telephone blown, black, stitches or fat shoelaces Peoples are petro, dramatic automatic .44 I let blow And back down po-po when I´m vexed, so My pen taps the paper, then my brain´s blank I see dark streets, hustlin´ brothers who keep the same rank Pumpin´ for somethin´, some´ll prosper, some fail Judges hangin´ niggas, uncorrect bails for direct sales
My intellect prevails from a hangin´ cross with nails I reinforce the frail with lyrics that´s real Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats I decipher prophecies through a mic and say "Peace" I hung around the older crews while they sling smack to dingbats They spoke of Fat Cat; that nigga´s name made bell rings, black Some fiends scream about Supreme Team, a Jamaica Queens thing Uptown was Alpo, son, heard he was kingpin Yo, fuck, rap is real! Watch the herbs stand still Never talkin´ to snakes, ´cause the words of man kill
True in the game, as long as blood is blue in my vein I pour my Heineken brew to my deceased crew on memory lane
"Now let me take a trip down memory lane" "Comin´ outta Queensbridge" "Now let me take a trip down memory lane" "Comin´ outta Queensbridge"
[ DJ Premier scratching] "Comin´ out of Queensbridge" "Comin´ out of Queensbridge" "Comin´ out of Queensbridge" "Comin´ out of Queensbridge" "The most dangerous MC is…" "Comin´ out of Queensbridge" "The most dangerous MC is…"
"Comin´ out of Queensbridge" "The most dangerous MC is…" "Comin´ out of Queensbridge" "The most dangerous MC is…" "Me number one, and you know where me from"