Lyrics:
of reference
To project the folks perspective where people are headed
Everyone is groomed to diss slander or boo
Anybody not perfect, like we back in school
I
this project and I ain't talking bout no Blair
Winter time down in NY, no L.A when I lake her woddi
Then hit her with that fader, Kobe
Oh you know me,
jackin' the style
Every month a new battle royale, slow down
Twitch overrun by -hold it down now
There's games, see 'em loading up in the background
I
As i arrive at the party
Another ounce of bacardi
Is handed to me by a beauty big ol boobie a barbie
Extend my arms like jeff hardy
I'm Grabbing ass
your starship's cradle?
Back in high school, We project our dreams inside a pyramid
You taught me how to hack right into the matrix
Telepathic, we ain't
She not working my nerve
Just want dick in her skirt
Project baby im watching for everything bad
Im not going no where on the first and third
She fuck
dollars
So by 30 I could buy some houses
And 40 I could send my daughter to college
At 50 I'm in Jersey dropping knowledge
Bout how a nigga made it out dem
ain't sweating you see me feet is up
Stab me in my back but only the ones I love seen the cut
Like fuck yo set you ain't my homies I won't peace you up
I
the project scheme meant
To dilute the thinking but but my mind on the brink of
Enlightenment and reason like when when fires in reach but
You coward from power
even though I'm
Raised up from the project
Walk a beat like PE
Feel it all in yo biceps
I'll dissect any bar
And I could even get violent
Luke Cage with
I told ya fuckin' ass I be back
In a brand new Fleetwood Cadillac
License plate say money makin' nigga fa sho
Chillin' by ya boy house kissin'
go the gap, 'cause T-Squad gonna react
Whatta we go? thugs and ammo, by a hundred tons of guns and rambos
Just in case you comin Commando
I'm
Me and my OISD niggas
Feeling buzzed off of cheap liquor
While we chillin in Manhattan walking towards the East River
Talking bout our goals
Good evening ladies and gentlemen
Welcome back to The EPisodic Lounge
I know it's been a long hard week
But you know just how we get down
Grab
told myself you know what this means
I was always working on verses longer than sixteens
Now you hear me rap in English, back then I did twi
These days I
Before all them loans, my mom was by herself in them saxophone homes
Columbia was hell, but she had us go to church
I was in the choir, learning
walk
True to the game
Until I'm outlined in chalk
They haters all gawk, they just do what they can
While I, Do what I want, yes I am the man
With
what you know
End up, up, up, in chains, chains, chains
Back in '88, son was gettin' a little paper
Caught a few stings, rocked the phat rope cables
ya led him to his thang
Do the prior call ya Juvey, Jimmy called you Miss Stank
Ya got the projects back
While Cash Money maggin
And get ya
one got belief in me, I see the tree
Should I take the fruit or should
I leave? Is it the key?
Bitch, I'm high as hell and moving keys
That's by
hefty
When I hit from the back, call me daddy
Can I hit in the back of the Caddy?
Fuck her so good, she like, "Why it go that deep?"
I'm like,
try to find something to eat
I spot a cookie in the kitchen drawer
And at 7:34 I'm out the door
Sitting in traffic, no escape
I'm gonna be late, work
(Brooklyn) home of the hot blocks
You can find me on the back block, e'rybody know me
I'm admired by the homey that's runnin the crack spot
I love to see
the masses still don't got a clue who Shad is
No cash to afford a DJ, I'm scratch less
Just in class or ironically with that Class kid
Out of class and back in
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