Lyrics:
but this ain't one of them
DJ's off the books, go 'head put the gun at them
All groupie M.C.'s, I'm bout to start stunnin' 'em
Don't matter what crew,
Gassed 'cause you hit my BM first, nigga, do the math, who I was hittin' then?
I ain't even know you rapped still 'cause they only talkin' 'bout your 'fit
Got me feeling good feeling alright
Got that music jamming all night
Ain't nothing like a good time
Pull up and take a ride
Got me feeling good,
tun (Queens!)
Where I live, what I rep
QB dun' (Queens!)
The mob rep (Queens!)
You know we rep (Queens!)
I blow dro in Q-boro
Ain't nothing
on you
Together there ain't nothing we can't do (there's nothing)
Any problem, we can see it through (we see it through)
Baby, if you promise to be true
ain't always what it seem
You might get fooled if you come from out of town
But I'm down by law and I know my way around
Too much, too many people,
gonna make him say my name
(Everything you needs to know 'bout mackin'
You gots to get from me)
What's my name? Say my name (Say my name)
Ain't nothing
a strainer, poisoned by the waiter
Drown in the dirt, eat a fuck for a chaser
Pardon me Barbie, this ain't a party for you Kramer
Marking me the maker if I
on
[Rap by Chyna Whyte]
I'm hittin' you on the two-way, shit, cause I want it bad
And I ain't thinkin' bout nothing but
You and me blowing hash in
on the dash you kno I ain't finna crash you wanna talk bout me go head and do it it don't even bother me ,
I been down so many times came from the bottom had
face so you don't notice me
Black Jesus, rockin' black cheeses
Nikki Bonadon, grown scorpion
Travel on, trying to go platinum, in Brook
Ain't never worried bout a mothafuckin thing
(I ain't neva worried)
Ain't never worried bout a mothafuckin thing
(I ain't neva worried)
Ain't never
on my top ain't banging nothing that I'm not And I'm comin' hot and you ain't poppin' like you thought on bestie its every opp shot
Like
How you talkin'
feeling when it's bout that hundred
By any means better get your money, I said
Cold-blooded, cold-blooded, daddy raised the boy cold-blooded
Ain't no
one year?
Don't make 'em go for you
Then go shoot to California
I got beaucoup hammers on me while
I'm chilling by myself at home
'Bout gun smoke, got
Let me tell you bout the King of kings who made me clean cause really I done seen some things
Let me tell you bout Jehovah Jireh souls' provider
ain't always what it seem
You might get fooled if you come from out of town
But I'm down by law and I know my way around
Too much, too many people,
remember how we used to be
(We used to be)
Yeah your n***a he lame I'm a G
(Lame I'm a G yeah)
Yeah you know he ain't got nothin no
He ain't got nothing
All they wanna know is where the sauce at
I dunn came up too fast on a jet mood
Now you really wanna gimme contract
I ain’t gat time for your corn
Put up with all my bullshit or you can hit the door
You know it ain't none to tell a bitch go
Jay Jay got bitches, getting low (Fasho)
Where was you
can get the recievage
But I ain’t buying cause you ain’t leavin’ with me
What I’m gonna do?
I’m off in the dark and now I’m clear, I don’t drink any
been Poppin
Winter time I'm bout to turn this whole Ish up
When things real why you running to the bishop
Your shooter stink they ain't pick him for
Bill-me Clinton (yeah)
Trillville (right) I see you sir
'Bout to crank this motherfucker up right (yeah)
Tellin y'all 'bout these muh'fuckin
badge but you not on the lease I stop by Laurita I know I'm gone eat She fry me some chicken for I hit the streets to go handle my business no hope
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