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(feat. Christ Castro) |
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[Intro] |
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[Gunshot] |
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'Queensbridge and we don't play' .. |
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'For every rhyme I write, it's 2-5 to life' |
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'Queensbridge and we don't play' |
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'Tragedy's the name, figured I'd just remind y'all' |
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'Queensbridge and we don't play' .. |
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'For every rhyme I write, it's 2-5 to life' |
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'Queensbridge and we don't play' |
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'My, my poetry's deep' |
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[Chorus x2] |
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We are the Truth |
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We need no proof |
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Blowin' shots off roof |
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[Castro:] (Touch y'all, please don't make us buck y'all) |
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[Verse 1: Christ Castro] |
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Yo, the name's Castro, I'm out for pesos |
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Fuck sitting on my ass like you couch potatos |
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While you watch wrestlin', smellin what the rock is cookin |
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I'm in the crackhouse and rock is cookin |
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Been, locked in macks, with lots of bookings |
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Beat a nigga down, fuck if them cops is lookin! |
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Put that heater down son, cuz if you had to pop you wouldn't |
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You would show up every shortcake topped with pudding |
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Soft ass nigga, sweet ass nigga |
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I'ma torch that nigga, peep that nigga |
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R.I.P. that nigga, ???? |
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See, I'm that nigga, my four fingers on that trigger |
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Beef me, you better pawn that vigor and buy some guns |
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'fore they find your lungs on your doormat nigga |
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Cuz I pack price that'll flush all your organs out |
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Make yo fam cut the price in your coffin out |
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Blood drip when the force come out |
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Slugs rip thru a nigga face blowin large portion out |
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Talkin bout, you mu'fuckers swear you live, through homicide |
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Come and talk you out |
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Now you see what you get when your ass get carried away? |
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Now your ass gettin' carried away |
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[Chorus x2] |
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We are the Truth |
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We need no proof |
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Blowin' shots off roof |
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[Castro:] (Touch y'all, please don't make us buck y'all) |
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[Verse 2: Tragedy Khadafi] |
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Truth is truth, real is real, love is love |
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Kastro, Khadafi, Blood is Blood |
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We can go shot for shot, slug for slug |
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Hit you up, body bags zip you up |
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I am truly amazing, you cowards ain't phasing me |
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Mahdi, 2-5, the O-G |
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I cock back, and pop them thangs |
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You runnin off octane, you dont wanna lock with the God |
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Glocks'll bang |
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Overall, feelin my aura, feelin my style, who you think started this thug shit? |
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But meanwhile, ask Noreag and 'pone, who kept em in the zone |
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41st Side, Q.B |
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Bringin it home, homie we got that |
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Don't ever try to stop my grind, cuz in the meantime in between tyin my nine |
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Steady long, steady strong when you fuckin' with mine |
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And I'ma ?eep? regardless to the charges I'm a G |
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Discreetly, holdin my heat, 22's on my feet |
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Ask Havoc ask Nas, from Q.B. to South Prob y'all wanna fuck with the God |
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[Chorus x2] |
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We are the Truth |
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We need no proof |
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Blowin' shots off roof |
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[Castro:] (Touch y'all, please don't make us buck y'all) |
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[Outro] |
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'Queensbridge and we don't play' .. |
|
'For every rhyme I write, it's 2-5 to life' |
|
'Queensbridge and we don't play' |
|
'My, my poetry's deep' |
|
'Queensbridge and we don't play' .. |
|
'For every rhyme I write, it's 2-5 to life' |
|
'Queensbridge and we don't play' |
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'Tragedy's the name, figured I'd just remind y'all' |
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[Gunshot] |
