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Yo god, I'm tryna stack and get a castle, cook lyrical keys in the lab |
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Bag 'em on 2 inch plates, DAT's too |
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Organized rime, time is money |
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Hustle nickels of vinyl, cassettes are dimes and a CD's a twenty |
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[Verse 1] |
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Yo, I used to roll with the thugs, who sold drugs |
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And put slugs in dealers who turned squealers |
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The cap pealers, high rollers, big money wheelers |
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Niggaz who'll spank a nigga, in front of his moms without feelings |
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The transporters, importers and exporters |
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Putting hits out on P.O.'s, judges and sargeants and news reporters |
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Most of the Gods I used to do crimes with |
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Ended up in Sing-Sing infirmary, getting their asshole stitched |
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Wifey with a switch, ya godfather turned snitch |
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They up North, while we out in New York, trying to get rich |
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I worked my way up from grindin and measurin |
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Credit card schemes and crimes and embezzlin |
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I kept climbin Sugar Hill to get the treasures and |
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Striving for diamonds and a million dead presidents |
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Some left murder weapons, fingerprints and evidence |
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Hot hit with 25, the feds sabotaged their residence |
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[Chorus] |
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[Verse 2] |
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Scrambling to get the cream, kept the rap dream |
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Living on 2 planes of reality caught in between |
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Wanted the best of both worlds chasing material |
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Snake niggaz play the priest |
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Throwing the dirt at my burial |
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My world consisted of sex, lust, money and l's |
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Now I get lifted off exodus 20 and 12 |
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My role models, were the brothers on the corner who sold bottles |
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Out on parole the mind and soul of aristotle |
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Red Hook was like a mafia flick |
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Never got to cop me a brick |
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We used to plot to stick poppi and shit |
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Sitting pretty in a white land, my man had the right plan |
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Flights to get his head right in white sands |
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Sipping cristal, pimping a pistol |
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Till his ass got shipped up to fishcale |
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He used to cop 2 bricks watch his chips pile |
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Now he sit in a cell, praying for a mis-trial |
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[Chorus] |
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[Verse 3] |
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When DEA rushed the crib we flushed an ounce on them |
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Handcuffed in the hall and we still tried to bounce on them |
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Hit rock bottom then we catch another loan shark |
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Scale our rocks, to get a 8 ball hit the pawn shop |
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Street dreams weighing a cake on a triple beam |
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Heat schemes, playing for papes my team crippled fiends |
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Investing money into street stocks, my peeps used to keep glocks |
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Slap you up and give you speed knots |
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In the diamond district yanking ice chains |
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The Gods used to heist trains |
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Then late at night stick the dice games |
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5 bombs of lah and rock up in the mailbox |
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C.O.'s had niggaz sell rocks from their cell blocks |
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Most of the gods got bagged and got indicted |
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Some had open cases out of state and they got extradicted |
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Some tried to fight it, blew trial on their appeal |
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Got uncorrect bails, for smuggling guns and direct sales |
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[Chorus] |
