Lyrics:
hand in hand with my Pakistan man
We made vapors
Fish scales from Jackson Heights Columbians
I.S. 61, was raised for no republicans
And I don't mean
I'm a
Make you come like the space after the comma for real
If I woulda known 20 inches of chrome
Was really turning you on then we wouldn't be friends
till the party's
through
Then they tap me on my shoulder, say "This Bud's for You" To be a real
M.C.
You can't be obedient To be smooth is
industry, prepare for me
That double C, my nuts is all I got
[South Park Mexican]
I walk in the club niggas stare at me
Bitch you got something you want
Running improv for a tony
These motherfuckers is actors
Where we go
Studewood park
Takeing tokes
Gotta watch out for the Po-Po
So we creep on the low low
rose, and still we rise
No ulterior motive this is just for growth
We shrouded by a cloud of mystery, bring forth hell boy let's give up the misery
Light
screaming in hell
No such thing as a bail
Nor a saved by the bell
When the heat is for real
Better throw in the towel
Before you empty your bowels
And be
baggies in alleys
To where the streets is your family
Gettin' blurred by the same cop
Go to jail for a year and come home
Two of your niggas dropped
the streets, I'm undefeated like Floyd (ay)
I been drippin' since a little boy (drippin')
Jurassic park, yeah, I be with them dinosaurs (gang)
AR-15 by
bouquet
And by the look at my paint, man it's a wonderful spray
Sucker trynna fuck my high up on a sucker-free day
I told that sucker park your whip cause
know how it feel (Feel!)
I keep it real, I hope you trying to build (Build!)
You've been scarred, now it's time to get healed (Healed!)
Came along way
The fuck is up, nigga? (Tre, walk 'em down)
I done told these niggas too many times, nigga (for real)
I'ma keep steppin' on you niggas
Puttin' you
twenty miles apart
Doc is like bad weather reports by Al Rourke
If you're not from the tri-boro, story settled
I pack gaudy metal for those who act fool
a charming little park
Paid for by the city
Now my brother you're a cinch
Cause when I send them, they're sent
You mean you're ready?
Suppose I hit a real
You got a cool little sister and your pops is too
I always see you at the the park and you're always nice
I hope you had a great year cuz this year
Lauren
Ferragamo friends, I kick my dab
Might sell a bag, cause I miss my dad
RIP to a real OG
Only thing I smoke is real OG
Only thing I trust in
himself down
No one knows his real name
No one knows the man
Acting out this part behind the sham
Why does he does this
Is it just for the fame
If it is
in Rhode Island with Dad, Grandma, Grandpa and Dave
Who hung himself real high
In the National Park sky, it's a shame and I'm crying right now
hallway
But now the fools are Minute Made
They get played for a minute
Then played out they never get back in it
Gun park I bring chalk for your body
shoulder and say, "This Bud's for you"
To be a real MC, you can't be obedient
To be smooth is the main ingredient
You have to be silky like a Milky
the Grahams, not the 'Gram
I do it for the fam, but still fuckin' Uncle Sam
I tried to change for you, but that wasn't who I am
Even when being real is out
Obie Trice
Real name no gimmicks
Two trailer park girls go round the outside
Round the outside, round the outside
Two trailer park girls go round
look fly today
And all we wanna do is get by today
Heyyy
We're gonna have a good day
And ain't nobody gotta cry today
'Cause ain't nobody gonna die
at the
same time, the only thing they get is their gain
From my bag, from my money, from my cheddar, from my cash
They don't want me for my heart, they only
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