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[Verse 1] |
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Hey yo Queens get the Money long time no cash |
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I'm caught up in the hustle when the guns go blast |
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The fool retaliated so I had to think fast |
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Pull out my heat first, he pull out his heat last |
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Now who the fuck you think is livin' to this day? |
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I'm tryin' to tell these young niggas crime don't pay |
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They looked at me and said "Queen's niggas don't play. Do your thing |
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I'll do mine kid stay outta my way" |
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It's type hard tryna survive in New York state |
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Can't stop till I'm eatin' off a platinum plate |
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Po po comes around and tries to relocate me |
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Lock me up forever but they can't deflate me cause |
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Havin' cash is highly addictive |
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Especially when you're used to havin' money to live with |
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I thought step back look at my life as a whole |
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Ain't no love it seems the devil done stole my soul |
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I'm out for delfia, selfia, P's not helpin' ya |
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I'm tryna get this Lexus up, and plus a cellular |
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Yo Big Noyd! (What up cuzin'?) I can't cope |
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With all these crab niggas tryna shorten my rope |
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[Verse 2: Big Noyd] |
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Yo it's the r - a double p |
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E - r, n - o - y - d |
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Niggas can't fuck with me |
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Comin' straight outta QB |
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Pushin' an Infiniti |
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You ask can I rip it constantly? Mentally? |
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Definitely, to the death of me |
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Come and test me |
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Trust me, nigga couldn't touch me if he snuff me |
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So bust me, you're gonna have to, cause I'mma blast you |
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My lyrical like a miracle, ill spiritual |
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I'm born wit' it |
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I'm gettin' on wit' it |
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An' I'mma have it 'til I'm fuckin' dead and gone wit' it |
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Cause I'm a what? Composer of hardcore |
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A lyrical destructor |
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Don't make me buck ya, cause I'm a wild muthafucka |
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You know my flow, you know my stilo |
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Even pack my gat when I go to see my PO |
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Jump out my hooptie |
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Pass my gat and my lucci to my shorty |
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In case my PO try to troop me to the island |
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And if I start wildin' |
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Flippin' on niggas walkin' around wit' da nice gold medallions |
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But she didn't violate me, so I escaped see |
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Back to Queen's pumpin' the fiends makin' more Cream |
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Know what I mean? I'm a natural born hustler |
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Won't try to cut ya, pull out my 4 4 and bust ya |
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Yo babe no time for fakin' jacks |
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Cuz niggas who fake jacks get laid on their backs |
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The streets is real can't roll without steel |
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I feel how I feel cause I was born to kill |
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Do what I gotta, to eat a decent meal |
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Brothers is starvin', don't try to find a job son |
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It's all about robbin' |
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So don't be alarmed |
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When we come through, cause we supposed to |
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If you opposed to |
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Get your face blown dude, off the map |
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Cause I react, attack |
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A brother wasn't blessed with wealth so I act like that |
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Drug dealin' |
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I'm frontin on the world once I start 4-wheelin' |
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Cause back on the 41st side we do a ride |
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Sippin E & J, gettin' bent all night |
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Yo, who dat? I never seen him in my whole life |
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Step to his business cause it's only right |
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Po po ain't around so I grab my pound |
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Money retaliated so I hit the ground |
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My life is on the line gotta hold my projects down |
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Can't see myself gettin' bodied by a clown-ass nigga |
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That ain't even from my town |
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Hit him up in the chest and now he's layin' me down dead |
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And up from under the benches I started hearin' sirens |
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I stop firin' |
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He cut ass like a diamond |
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Jetted to the cribpiece, what a relief |
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Stashed the heat then proceeded to peep out the window |
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Call my son, "yo son we got beef |
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But no question |
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Money had a problem so I solved him" |
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I got my mind on the stick-up now it's time to get paid |
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Thinkin' of ways to take loot already made |
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There's crime in the air, ain't no time to be afraid |
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Gimme yours and get laid |
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Give up the goods and get sprayed |
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I got lots of love, for my crew that is |
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No love for them other crews and rival kids |
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All them out-a-town niggas know what time it is |
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And if they don't they need to buy a watch |
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Word up |
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Caught up in the cross-fire get theyself hurt |
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While I be sippin' gin straight in a plastic cup |
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On a park bench on 12th st., my whole crew's famous |
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You tried to bust your gat and keep it real but you nameless |
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First of all slow down, you on the wrong route |
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Let me put you on your feet and show you what's it all about |
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The street life ain't nuttin' to play with |
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No jokes no games kid |
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For years I been doin' the same shit |
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Just drinkin' liquor, doin' bids |
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Extortin' crack heads |
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And stickin' up the stick-up kids |
