Lyrics:
Harlem Week to Queens Day
Performing acapella, no dj
'98 live, no replays
Make it seem easy, so tell a friend to tell a friend
That its them
me wit' no other by the flow, motherfucker
Dedicated to all of those with big egos
Never fakin', we get the dough and live legal
Haters hate this,
in sync?
Out looking for the camera crews
Sell my soul for a second on the evening news
Am I in sync?
Live 'til the bubble pops
Hold my breath
Harlem Week to Queens Day
Performing acapella, no dj
'98 live, no replays
Make it seem easy, so tell a friend to tell a friend
That its them again,
the clubs, got her mack-on
Back in the 60's with an afro and her platforms
Bopping to the supremes, smoking joints
That's cool, but I'ma live how I want
I spent my first two years gettin' high
By smokin' dollar joints rolled outta 1.5's
That was 'round '84, '85
Smoke all week for the dimes
Now
sound of this, something's comin'
You can picture like a photograph, envision the image
Of one-two-fifth street and Lenox
The old folks their souls
make me cum
Put a price on my head won't make me run
Try to kill me but it can't be done
Cause my words gon' live forever
You put two and two together
had two pair of Lee's, besides that
The pin stripes and the gray (uh-huh)
The one I wore on Mondays and Wednesdays (uh)
While niggas flirt, I'm
started to drink
School became boring and doing my homework became rollin' joints
Now I'm sixteen like my mama was when she had a little boy
Can't
Gun check
Check
Let's go over the plan
I'mma pull up to the joint slow, then hop out the van
Nah don't hop out, slide out lookin' like a knockout
the global
I stays universal with the vocal
Attracting your focal points with each joint performed at live shows
While Lilsci' verbally fly with dime flows
My
friends and my crew
Makes it definitely special (a-one, two, a-one, two)
Now there's no Shiny Happy People in the crew we play the rough
I got
I murder tracks, put two in a crew
Tell me, who want to mo'
Catch me in the studio, what? Doing a do
Give me 10 minutes, I'll hook you up with
tracks, put two in a crew
Tell me, who want to mo'
Catch me in the studio, what? Doing a do
Give me 10 minutes, I'll hook you up with joint that's mean
Yeah
Word, these bitches be bugging God
Reason why ain't got nothing to do with nothing
Yeah, check it out y'all one two
We back up in this
Timbaland - he's that next nigga
Confirmed by people that she can blow
Convinced Booker T she's the next to go
Now I'm checkin every joint and every unit
[Chorus]
The struggle lives hard times, we do or die
My whole crews fly hands high to the sky
So maintain son elevate try to build
But now you're
the police in Brooklyn?
Turn this jam up, yo, yo
This the type of jam that be getting no airplay
I want the whole world to hear this joint right here, yo
the joint, boom
Yo, I got a crazy idea how to do Clarks now
Check it out, boom, this is how you freak 'em, boom
You go get, you go get the cream joints
had two pair of Lee's, besides that
The pin stripes and the gray (uh-huh)
The one I wore on Mondays and Wednesdays (uh)
While niggas flirt, I'm
minded niggas, Alpha have it positioned
That's opposition, wetttin me competition
Suddenly and outta tha blue and now I see
by myself, by myself
murmurs
Word, you sweeter than cupcakes
I concentrate to blow blocks where your crew pump weight
Each generation, rules the nation
Rock more spots than
robbed 4 ya coat - cant
U see the stormy weather
Plus it's cold outside - my
Whole crew got berattas
Cause we stand by the heat -
Want the fire come get us
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