[Intro: Kool G Rap]
This one is for my peeps out on the street and six feet, baby. (Uh, uh). Watch yourself, kid. The jakes be deep and on the creep now. (What the deal? What the deal?). This one is for my duns that’s upstate and doing long bids. (For real, kid). We stay repping for Queens, infrared beams
[Verse 1: Kool G Rap]
Ayyo, I’ll only rock with fam and plot-planning niggas that cock the cannons
Run with the ox-jamming niggas, do a whole bid in the box standing
Eight niggas that’s quick to hop in the van and cock Glocks and
Put the drop on top of the whole block gambling, turn in the nice linen
Gun shots got 'em scrambling. Leave 'em for cops to examine
The streets are frigid, so I speak it vivid
Sleep with it, love it, and live it. If you want one of these slugs
I'ma give it and pop you 'till you drop liquid
Your days are numbered—I’ll keep dropping the digits
Bodies get sent to the chop shop like Civics
All for popping up on the wrong blocks to visit
The wrong spot to risk it
Nothing but hollow tops in the biscuits
Get helicopter-lifted out, you hot lizards
Keeping far from the child shit—.40 cal. spit
Running with wild cliques, dead you and beat the murder trial shit
12-valve whips. The strip is scorching
Flooded with drug enforcement lawmen stripping your fortune
Shorties are like the Statue of Liberty
They stay lifting the torch and orphans spit the fifth often
Mad chicks get abortions. Weak ones lay stiff in a coffin
Federal stakeouts, spots get raided, shots get traded
Coming to lock everything rock-related. Keeping the cell blocks
Overly populated. Incarcerated Scarfaces intoxicated
The knives get operated, some get chopped and faded
Leaving to bleed, in need for medical aid from sharp metal, get laid
When shit get hot, it's hard to settle the blaze
The ghetto we praise, nigga
This one is for my peeps out on the street and six feet, baby. (Uh, uh). Watch yourself, kid. The jakes be deep and on the creep now. (What the deal? What the deal?). This one is for my duns that’s upstate and doing long bids. (For real, kid). We stay repping for Queens, infrared beams
[Verse 1: Kool G Rap]
Ayyo, I’ll only rock with fam and plot-planning niggas that cock the cannons
Run with the ox-jamming niggas, do a whole bid in the box standing
Eight niggas that’s quick to hop in the van and cock Glocks and
Put the drop on top of the whole block gambling, turn in the nice linen
Gun shots got 'em scrambling. Leave 'em for cops to examine
The streets are frigid, so I speak it vivid
Sleep with it, love it, and live it. If you want one of these slugs
I'ma give it and pop you 'till you drop liquid
Your days are numbered—I’ll keep dropping the digits
Bodies get sent to the chop shop like Civics
All for popping up on the wrong blocks to visit
The wrong spot to risk it
Nothing but hollow tops in the biscuits
Get helicopter-lifted out, you hot lizards
Keeping far from the child shit—.40 cal. spit
Running with wild cliques, dead you and beat the murder trial shit
12-valve whips. The strip is scorching
Flooded with drug enforcement lawmen stripping your fortune
Shorties are like the Statue of Liberty
They stay lifting the torch and orphans spit the fifth often
Mad chicks get abortions. Weak ones lay stiff in a coffin
Federal stakeouts, spots get raided, shots get traded
Coming to lock everything rock-related. Keeping the cell blocks
Overly populated. Incarcerated Scarfaces intoxicated
The knives get operated, some get chopped and faded
Leaving to bleed, in need for medical aid from sharp metal, get laid
When shit get hot, it's hard to settle the blaze
The ghetto we praise, nigga
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