Lyrics:
Hitting it close to my back, my whole click stay strapped
On some Queens bridge survival shit, we strike like that
Full force, we blast at your main
that do you
The suckas that got the player hater venom
I want to take 'em outside and lay some slugs up in em
[King T]
When they need work
They
ZUU shit
Never no FUU shit
Try to sue this, we end up on Sun Tzu shit
And you don't want that, buddy
There's no combat
Ask Drake to pick you a season
Got any last words?
Yeah, yeah, I got some last words
Once again it's on-
Ice Cube's in the motherfuckin' house
The nigga you love to hate
Ice
praise is like a rajah
I reckon, that crews that step over this way
Think life is a game and they just too pissed to play
Some say, on mics I'm a master
to motherfuckin' hurtcha,P
We checked in date of 1989
Intertwined with some chips to sign
On the little dotted line
It was lovely and the DeNiro was clean
our fathers and slaughtering them all over the world
But it’s time that we spoke
Either you want us to live, or you don’t
Even so, there’s potential for
to Lucky's, Ditty Boys, and to Charlie C's
I go to skate in CLC cause it's in a mix
I like drinkin at the Vets ????????
TDF is in this bitch cause we da boys
And though I pack this pound 3-5-7 or 4-5
Will I hide? Will I die? Will I ride?
Niggas never know why
My whole crew, a family clique
Are we sick? Are we live
no drive-by's
We walked over
COB bandana tied to the end of the AR
Iller than they are, rhymes so sick
Give 'em the day off
This is the chaos, Nicolas
to party, we came to party, we came to party
Aiyyo, step in my area, and I'ma bury ya
Tha Likwit crew is blowin so the more the girl the merrier
So
me to puff through
DMT or even mushrooms
I’m a crush the 1, 2, 1, 2
Rebuffed yet I get love too
Mix the old school with sumnthin new
Some don’t want
your whole crew put 'em all in your pocket
If your feelin' sick rub it on with Vicks
'N take two to six of our sweet super mix
Your street time is
your whole crew put 'em all in your pocket
If your feelin' sick rub it on with Vicks
'N take two to six of our sweet super mix
Your street time is
like a level in this game that we live
Gotta struggle to survive, that's why some MC's get blitzed
Situations got your mind in control, that's how
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
We in the hit house
You know this Swayze
Ghost Gang Sr. nigga
Shout out to KJ
Ay, yeah I'm trapped
on some syrup
Now you know we gone, goin real strong
I thinkin ride far, I thinkin ride long
Drop roll barre, that what I want
I'm comin on down jammin
want to
We hittin' whores on the floor, whole crew be wild
Bitch, back that ass up like Juvenile (huh)
When my peeps come to spend, a dime apiece
to control this?
I know some folk that live by the levee
That keep on telling me they heard explosions
Same shit happened back in Hurricane Betsy
1965: I ain't
Ninety-ninety-motherfuckin'-two
Straight from Jersey, the Philly blunt lives on
Yo, B, tell 'em how this shit goin' down
Time, time for some
Ninety-ninety-motherfuckin'-two
Straight from Jersey, the Philly blunt lives on
Yo, B, tell 'em how this shit goin' down
Time, time for some
some dumplin' but leave out the bean
Me na go to restaurant sit down and eat three course meal
Me a chat it verbally don't want it signed stampedor
be trippin dont be doin no drive-bys
Cause we dont gangbang, dont wear blue or red
We like that fuckin green, papers what I said
Big Moe wassup, in
to say
Okay
Uh, another day in Coronavirus, hope we never touch like papyrus and a stylus
Old school meets new school, don't want to waste your time
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