Lyrics:
roaster
Smoke rise, out the sun roof when I roll up
Verrazano, with no relation to Gravano
Carlo, shots are hollow, still cop a bottle
And pour some
Verrazano, with no relation to Gravano
Carlo, shots are hollow, still cop a bottle
And pour some out, moment of silence, then I swallow
I'm still alive
And those that pretend to be's
Homocide hill!
That's the grits
THE GRITS!
The barracks baby word up
Verrazano bridge
Yo yo
I give a speech like
Well I get this feeling when I'm driving
Brooklyn, Jersey, Staten Island
I got the radio on low as I cross the Verrazano
Driving slow but short
at the Verrazano Narrows Bridge
It doesn't matter how many weapons they bring to kill us, in truth
Who they think they're fuckin wit
We're Brooklyn-Staten island
in each other
Making loving out of nothing like the air supplier said
You've got me so far gone I'm past Governor's Island
I'm past the Verrazano
the crazy ducky boy wearing flannel
I climb the Verrazano eat my pasta with Romano
The Brooklyn mutt is about to go rabid
Killin' motherfuckers is my only bad
My mind travels, 4 corners of the universe, it unravels, shines light and gives birth like the Sparrow. Fly high and soar the earth to the Verrazano
a park ranger
Burst of adrenaline, bungee jumped off the Verrazano
I sky dive in some sky blue Ferragamo's
Ran the streets heavy, kept my charms chunky
keys at the piano plays across the Verrazano
El Padrino, in the villa in Venice sipping vino
Not bad for a mulignano, y'all know like we know, I got it
panel
Crossing the Verrazano
Tom Ford Taylor shoes, you’s Ferragamo
Don Corleone, let's talk mano-a mano
I’m classically trained
They call me the piano
uh
Lucky Luciano is what they call me, paesano
A 100 keys at the piano
Plays across the Verrazano
El Padrino, in the villa in Venice
Sippin' vino not
across the Verrazano
El Padrino, in the villa in Venice
Sippin' vino not bad for a mulignan
Y'all know like we know, I got it
Fuck with me, you know I got
Bitches know the hour it be time for some action
P.L.O. peace to that nigga Barryano
Word up, let's take him to the bridge, Verrazano
P.L.O. style Buddha
Verrazano J Reeds is getting lined up
Sam Rothstein when I lean slump with the 9 tucked
Come and take a trip to the dark side
Fuck around with pigs
They
You can catch me ridin' down on the fuckin' Verrazano
Ass out just like Diallo, Diablo
Hi-ho Silver, call that motherfucker "Tonto"
Leave a smoke
You can catch me ridin' down on the fuckin' Verrazano
Ass out just like Diallo, Diablo
Hi-ho Silver, call that motherfucker "Tonto"
Leave a smoke
pictures
Word to mama, this rap wonder rhymer team got drama
Comma, plus smoke real ass marijuana
Chef Maranzano, boats across the Verrazano
Immaculate,
take him to the bridge, Verrazano
P.L.O. style, Buddha monks with the Owls
to force my hand
I'm moving keys, them DeLucas couldn't touch my pianos
Putting pressure on them Gambinis and Verrazanos
They love my money, they hate
Frank was fishin' for competition, expedition
Number one, his name is Barry Madanno
Push the phat Milano, '96 stick-shift 'cross the Verrazano
I lay
and perfume bottles
Blow a hole through an avocado, blitzed on the Verrazano
Wish that I became a leader, the day this old school nigga
Placed a burner in my
got this, measure deceive
Ima clean up the block like you wouldn't believe
Call me Mr. Clean, aka Starkiano
Nine years later slid across the Verrazano
York [?]
And I see street life, the only life I know
I see Liberty, I see the motherfucking Verrazanos
I see gangstas getting money, bitches acting funny
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