Word up, man, you know what I’m sayin’?
So I be tellin’ these niggas, man
Shit ain’t a game, man
Tell ’em, dunn, man
Let them niggas know, man
Shit is real, kid, word up
Know what I’m sayin’?
Shit is definitely real, boy
Yeah, we tryna get this loot anyway, man
[Verse 1: Prodigy &
Big Noyd
]
A-yo, Queens get the money, long time no cash
I’m caught up in the hustle where 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 tryna tell these young niggas crime don’t pay
They looked at me and said, “Queens niggas don’t play”
Do your thing, I’ll do mine, kid, stay outta my way
It’s type hard tryna survive in New York state
But can’t stop ’til 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 pause, 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, plus a cellular
Yo, Big Noyd (What up, cousin?)
I can’t cope with all these crab niggas tryna shorten my rope
Yo, it’s the R-A-double-P-E-R N-O-Y-D
Niggas can’t fuck with me!
Comin’ straight outta QB, pushin’ the Infiniti
You ask can I rip it constantly? Mentally? Definitely
To the death of me, come and test me
Trust me, nigga can’t touch me if he snuffed me
So bust me, you’re gonna have to ’cause I’ma blast you
My lyrical like a miracle, ill spiritual
I’m born with it, I’m gettin’ on with it
And I’ma have it ’til I’m fuckin’ dead and gone with it
‘Cause I’m a what? Composer of hardcore, a lyrical destructor
Don’t make me buck ya, ’cause I’m a wild motherfucker
You know I flow, you know my steelo
Even pack my gat when I go to see my P.O.
Jump out my hooptie, pass my gat and my lucci to my shorty
In case my P.O. try to troop me to the Island, and if I start wildin’
Flippin’ on niggas walkin’ around with the nice gold medallions
But she didn’t violate me, so I escaped, see?
Back to Queens, pumpin’ the fiends, makin’ more C.R.E.A.M.
Know what I mean? I’m a natural born hustler
Won’t try to cut ya, pull out my .44 and bust ya
Yo, ain’t no time for fakin’ jax
‘Cause brothers that fake jax get laid on they 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
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’, only mess with shorties that’s appealin’
I’m frontin’ on the world once I start 4-wheelin’
‘Cause back on the 41st Side, we do it right
Sippin’ E&J, gettin’ bent all night
Yo, who that? 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, now he’s layin’ man down
Jetted up from under the benches, I started hearin’ sirens
I stopped firin’, to cut ass like a diamond
Jetted to the crib piece, what a relief
Stashed the heat, then proceeded to peep
Out the window, called my son, “Yo, son, we got beef”
But no question, money had a problem so I solved him
I got my mind on a 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 or get laid
Give up the goods or get sprayed
I got lots of love, for my crew that is
No love for them other crews and rival kids
All them outta-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 up
While I be sippin’ gin straight in a plastic cup
On a park bench on 12th Street, 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 nothin’ 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
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