[Verse 1: Lil Fame]
Hold up the peace sign, [?]
Motherfuck that [?] 40 akers
Throw up the G sign, I'll pull out [?]
Dodging bullits since the days of Ronald Ragan
When you look in these eyes, I used to ride around the [?] on the MP5's
Screaming killers, [?] MB Live
Fuck around, I'll send your ass to the unfriendliest guys
Nigga I raised y'all, but I hate y'all basstards
My straightjacket was an eightball jacket
When I was in the streets ducking rappid fire
You was in the crib, sucking a passsafire
This is Harlem World, Brownsville east
New York from the [?] where we toat that [?]
I'm cut from a different cloth, homie
We got [?]
This is murder, we don't give no fucks
[Verse 2: Uncle Murda]
Go Brooklyn, let's shoot something
Ran into this kid I robbed before, he ain't do nothing
Him and a few of his mans whispering when we ran into the club
I got a bitch next to him, she listening
She said it don't make no sence to start off with him
He ain't talking bout popping off, he ain't scared if you gon rob him again
[?] should've heard how he yelled
He a bitch, he probably grew up in a crib full of females
If he get shot and don't die, he gon tell
Dope, coke, pills, and weed is what we sell
We fucking 9 to 5, we be in the trap
Who used to run this block, they ain't getting it back
[?] just getting out
Let's wait for him, we gon kill him at the halfway house
6 feat under is where we put the nigga
Slay from Harlem, but move like a Brooklyn nigga
Hold up the peace sign, [?]
Motherfuck that [?] 40 akers
Throw up the G sign, I'll pull out [?]
Dodging bullits since the days of Ronald Ragan
When you look in these eyes, I used to ride around the [?] on the MP5's
Screaming killers, [?] MB Live
Fuck around, I'll send your ass to the unfriendliest guys
Nigga I raised y'all, but I hate y'all basstards
My straightjacket was an eightball jacket
When I was in the streets ducking rappid fire
You was in the crib, sucking a passsafire
This is Harlem World, Brownsville east
New York from the [?] where we toat that [?]
I'm cut from a different cloth, homie
We got [?]
This is murder, we don't give no fucks
[Verse 2: Uncle Murda]
Go Brooklyn, let's shoot something
Ran into this kid I robbed before, he ain't do nothing
Him and a few of his mans whispering when we ran into the club
I got a bitch next to him, she listening
She said it don't make no sence to start off with him
He ain't talking bout popping off, he ain't scared if you gon rob him again
[?] should've heard how he yelled
He a bitch, he probably grew up in a crib full of females
If he get shot and don't die, he gon tell
Dope, coke, pills, and weed is what we sell
We fucking 9 to 5, we be in the trap
Who used to run this block, they ain't getting it back
[?] just getting out
Let's wait for him, we gon kill him at the halfway house
6 feat under is where we put the nigga
Slay from Harlem, but move like a Brooklyn nigga
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