Lyrics:
administrative lockin'
Marble face poetry poverty hard
Perform like the ?
We went from allies to enemies
Stingin' like centipedes
Sit around and watch death
like the love coming from the blocky
I don't feel nobody
I don't feel nobody
I'm like who are you
I don't know yo like Gotti
I don't feel nobody
I do
when I'm with my East coast folks locs (East coast)
Y'all know what's crack-a-lacking
I'm from the hood of the drive-bys and kidnappings,
knockin her boots
When she's away from home, she be swallowin juice
You thinkin that's yo' son, but he ain't lookin like you
See the barrel of a gun,
With my nigga ScHoolboy cadillac and a coupe
See them niggas hatin from afar
Can't catch em know
But they getting smacked when we do
Ra ta ta like we
And you betta put a low jack on yo hoe mane
I just call her boo
I don't know her whole name
Keep it on the low mane
All we eat is lo mien
Came from
from the Noya
Niggas envy me, I gotta look over my shoulders
I got, I got, Florida water
I'm bout to go fuck on yo daughter
(I got, I got, I got) I'm
It's Yo boy Juan Gotti Juan Gachos
Shout out Aiden, Manic Beats
No set trippin' records in this bitch
What's up Steve Era
Ah
Now you on the floor
getting green righteously
Over this paper a nigga is Loko
But I stay low though ducking photos
And bozos who need promos from
Slow hoes who pussy so
to slave the babies
Ay yo they didn't know the cop was crooked, he had blow out in Brooklyn
All his white he let the fiends cook it
The base heads
off
I stopped trustin' niggas since Gotti got caught
It's Bricks, keep your wrist covered, I'm piss colored
By the waist got a gun as dark as Kris
off
I stopped trustin' niggas since Gotti got caught
It's Bricks, keep your wrist covered, I'm piss colored
By the waist got a gun as dark as Kris
But the white man didn't care, shit
He didn't have to wear it (uh-uh)
The scratch that he had, he got from his parents
With his tight ass, he woulda
pink lemoade or sherballato
Pink lemonade or sherballato tell me
What you want hoe yh i got 35s
Tenscotti by tenco or i got gotti
By backpack boys in
gon' hit yo' ass up.
You know where we comin' from
Death Row bitch Ay yo Kurupt
You first to blast nigga and you know how we do it
your fiction
That graffers came from broken homes with drug addictions
Get the picture it's a mixture of four ingredients
Kept alive by cats who truly
This culture came from
And what it's really all about
I got you, my nigga, yo, ayo
Count to ten and then come in shootin'
Fuck peace, Silverback the new
just had to bring 'em back
[Incomprehensible]
You know I had to bring 'em back yo
No doubt I'm from the X and I seen it all
Shorties with dreams
Welcome to New York City, welcome to New York City
[Cam'Ron]
Yo, there's a war going on outside no man is safe from
It don't matter if you three feet
strong(Yeah! )
Yo, got my mind on a place to hide from police(Where?)
Sweatin dogs as I'm runnin cross 12th Street
Just as I approach the block
I spot a jake
and adopted
By the streets but the
Gift he brought with him to this world
Will effect our outlooks on not only
Rap music but on life as well, forever
Forever
from Staten Island
(Ah Mister Cee, and you don't stop)
Yo, times is getting hard, word is bond
I swear to God i even got caught trying to
Steal from
time is near, so get your body dropped off
I stopped trustin niggaz since Gotti got caught
It's Bricks keep your wrist covered, or piss colored
By
me, nigga)
It's been ten long years (yo)
You can not retire me (listen)
On the corner ready to bo', holding my nuts
Standing by my building,
.jpg/280px-Lee_Scratch_Perry_2016_(9_von_13).jpg "Lee \"Scratch\" Perry")
.jpg/300px-Scratch_Massive@La_Laiterie(SXB).jpg "Scratch Massive")
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