Lyrics:
no peace for the piece then
I say peace to the beast in heat
Let's talk about a Slim Jim
Jimmy chance in hell
If you can't protect a peck
Your chances
Standin' on a corner,
Suitcase in my hand.
Jack's in his car, says to Jane, who's in her vest,
Me, babe, I'm in a rock n' roll band.
Ridin' in
Max Julian on a ho
Used to run the rock, Jim Brown in the snow
Moncler bomber, armor Under Armour
.38 special 'cause I believe in karma
Double
in this bitch
And we all for one better be cautious, son
'cause the time is now
Look, no more talk, where the riders now?
We ain't even tryna hide it
left
behind, Styrofoam, computer chips.
And Jim and John, oh they were there. And Carol too, her hair pinned up in that weird
beehive way she liked so
Say farewell, g'night, Sonny-Jim,
In your defenseless, winning smile.
What do you hope to win?
And bliss face down, defended.
Well, now stoned
And is laying low for a few,
But in your trunk he left you some treasure
A pint of rye and a case of Slim Jim's
For your masticating pleasure
Now
stay, okay goodbye now
Remember when they passed by you and laughed while you was walkin'?
God blessed you with a swag, you got that bag, look who
Person to person and man to man,
I'm back in touch with my long lost friend.
Listen to reason and understand
And think of me from way back when.
I've got a lot to accomplish this time of year
Even though we've got Santa I gotta kick it in gear
My neighbors always get me stuff, so now I need
Now you want it, now you want it
You know I'm not the same babe
Now you want it, now you want it
Who are you blame babe
You see me by myself and I
distance, much too easily
Jim says, "Some destinies should not be delivered"
But you and I see now, baby, that still they are
Winning it makes losers of us
(Oh Major, don't go)
Young Guru, Just Blaze, Killa
Diplomats, huh
Juelz Santana, Jim Jones, Freeky Zeekey
Hoffa, Dash, uh
Killa, uh
Y'all
And a bitch by the name of America's on it
The same bitch that jacked my forefathers
And the Indians took my motherfucking religion
Place a holy Bible in my
doubt
Meanwhile I'm swimming in cash
I was never cool with y'all, don't try to link up now
Because my train left the station, but it's a Brink's truck
spending ends
Saying, "Gimme that Benz, 20 inch rims, and four TV's"
The snitch in the precinct saying
"He sell X, he sell techs, and he sell D"
The balla by
an erection)
Go nigga, go (ain't shit to fool with)
Young black male
I try to effect by kicking the facts
And stacking much mail
I'm packing a gat 'cause
tough
With my man Jim Beam
I swing low like a chimp, back in '86
Then I was seein' a shrink
But now I'm humble and I can only think
About New
lettin' off much steam
In the Carhartt flannel and the dusty jeans, baby
I never was cool with James Dean, but I be hangin' tough
With my man Jim Beam
I
There's a fruit store on our street
It's run by a Greek.
And he keeps good things to eat
But you should hear him speak!
When you ask him
laying low for a few,
But in your trunk he left you some treasure
A pint of rye and a case of Slim Jim's
For your masticating pleasure
Now ten p.m.
a touchdown
Ran on the money, hall of fame of finesse, ain't no Jim Brown
I know my momma she proud of me
Young rich nigga, we the new trend now
Came a long
don't run
And my dog stay bustin his gun
Think that gettin' caught by justices is fun
Keep a blade up in they gums
This is Harlem, where the fuck is
to bring rap back
Not that it's away
But everybody got somethin' to say
So let me speak the opposite of what's hot now
And make that hot
So it will
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