| Danny’s house of pizza fuels my rhymes
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| Coliseum niggas popping tools for shines
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| This for left rack, where niggas post up by king Rogers
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| Southside niggas, up top it’s been fathers
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| Queens New York, no talk, let the TEC blow
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| Shoutout to my people probably posted up on metro
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| Made a quarter mil, a rich man held on the low
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| A lot of niggas never knew that I was making it snow, uh
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| Corona to Woodside, we hood tied
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| System on, down Rockaway, pushing a good ride
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| Playing old 50 shit, ghetto Quran
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| In the desert moving deadly cause the metal is on
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| It’s still iced down medallions
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| Flush em fam, fucking with ten on Rikers Island
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| Take a trip to Sunnyside, make the money rise
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| Queens niggas sticking dicks up in your honey’s thighs
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| There’s no escape from the mayhem
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| I’m living now, tryna make it to the AM
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| motion, XXL, the four fifth
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| I keep a black Smith and Wesson in my polo jacket
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| Summertime, play in the strip, maybe
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| Jackson heights, break down and redesign yay
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| My mind, stray thoughts, confused by Queens' corners
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| In the hand, fucking with grams, with Ds on us
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| Keep it low key, rock a low tee, rep officially
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| Left this boulevard, peace god, I pull your card
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| Perfection’s infinity, rep like it was telling me
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| Get baptized by Hennessey, then catch flights to Kennedy
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| Police harass you, tell you freeze like a statue
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| A deadly hassle, I’m over by the veggie castle
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| Some wheat grass, lemon splashed with a dash of ginger
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| Hoodie on poof then I’m gone just like a ninja
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| In the fog or the mist, keep my timepiece swiss
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| Bag a dime piece swift, real niggas shine like this
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| Blasting Billy Holliday out the beige coupe
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| Came a long way from the days when we was strange fruit |