Late night, down wind, and they schemin on your pantie
It's best to blend in, Bedra
And hope your dice rolls seven, if not, phone Kevin
He a friend of mine, he not really pussy
But not really a tough guy, when he shot his nine
Yo, he listen to doves cry, back in the days
He would give me a whole eighth and walk me to the train safe
Told me, grown men walk, only coward niggas strafe
When I was a lil nigga, he'd show me his toast
I'd follow him out to Gucci when he was coppin his loafs
And now I boost the beat till the floor shake
And I'm a spit the pain till the world ache
No debate, speak on my nigga life
Cause my mans was great at the corner store on thirty eighth
Like can we get together, all riders?
For a day filled with promise, Polos, and Pradas
Midnight Marauders, peace to your momma
She knew me as Chey, lil fat nigga always
Stealing racks from the crates, wanting to bust moves
Trying hard to be arrogant, parish fews
The high top ones, I had the white with the blue
And ain't nobody feel me but you, so bump this shit
While you sip on your brew, reminiscing on the real
Nigga shit we went through, my dude, my dog
Used to see you politicin up at the rim spot
Q-Tip, Dre, Kanye, Demonte? and you had put me
In your fifth spot, now your nigga's shit tight
Like a wrist watch, word
Ayo word, how they face could ever fester my feelings
Man this soul too appealin, my music revealin
The insides of a nigga, I heard your CD your rhymes is iller
Man, you can't stand them Brooklyn guys
I be all move with the lava, then you look in the eyes
Hood scholar, I ain't never been to college, learned it all on my block
Bread force, but it sway, word to knowledge of Pac
Word
So East Flatbush it's disgustin, flows he bustin
In the same Polo sport, my mans beside me
He worried about them lil niggas in the building lobby
I ain't tough, but kept a blade since them niggas robbed me
Yeah the world too cold
Niggas shinin shit and callin it gold, soon as your album drop, they callin it old
I kill flows and jeans with no holes in 'em
And all these beats got soul in 'em
I'm so winnin, but you prayin I lose
When I'm back in Brooklyn, I get the Choos, she like buy me black guy shoes
Them socks with Birkenstocks lowkey had you amused
But you still get undressed cause I need a muse
Now we lit as a fuse, it's no rules to the posse
If you from where I'm from, so I gave that bitch power
Word, my dick is a gun, your new disc went dumb
But Trey up in this bitch, you went fuckin with sum