Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 125 Part 2 (Fresh Air), artist - Joell Ortiz.
Date of issue: 23.04.2007
Song language: English
125 Part 2 (Fresh Air) |
Yaowa! It’s the boy Joell Ortiz |
Yo man, we at a half a brick now! |
Y’all know the work is fire |
HE COPIED IT from me! |
Wake up wake up, the first is here |
Mailman hurry up, ain’t no food up in here |
We live check to check, the projects steps is wet with piss |
Elevator broke, come fix this shit |
Mischievous kids steal chips outta the corner store |
Find stick, walk through the hood, with a 4-by-4 |
Eviction letters on your door when your rent late |
You riffin like your welfare was supposed to have sent cake |
We turn the johnny pump up until the wrench break |
It ain’t safe, you walk by and get a drenched face |
Every other month you sobbin at a friend’s wake |
Lightin candies in front of the buildin with Henn' straight |
Chinese food is a gourmet meal |
That General Tso’s chicken is always real |
Elders call the cops cause the hallways filled |
With weed smoke, so when we see Deebo we peel |
Deep throat is ill from a true bird |
So like two-thirds of the time we climb up to the roof, word |
Pebble Beach still alive |
You can’t park your car anywhere, for them rims they’ll steal your ride |
Your whole vehicle gone by the time you realize |
Somebody flossin quite often at the other side of Brooklyn |
Raise your hand if you spend a night in the bookings |
Bet you I see more arms than Saddam and his Muslims |
It’s cocaine cookin in the pot; smell the fumes? |
The finished product got the tenants sellin living rooms |
Every time they cop, they singing a different tune |
The crack got their brain boiling like a chicken stew |
Take a hit or two |
And watch you go from heavy-set with a job to out of work and invisible |
That’s a pitiful visual but this shit is true |
To be honest some of my fam on a mission too |
We play lotto and hope that we hit our way out |
I stopped chasin that dream, my leg gave out |
Don’t be mad, UPS is hirin |
Tried that, after the first check came retirement |
Back hurtin, my situation ain’t that urgent |
Felt like I got ran over by a black 'burban |
Scenarios like that make me the rap Earvin |
Magic Johnson, I’m Barry Bonds when his bat workin |
Hit maker, mixtape of the year |
Can everybody just take a deep breath? Yes! |
I’m fresh air, let’s hear all the nonsense |
He’s kind of heavy, he’s gonna be hard to market (what else?) |
Plus he’s Latin, is that who he’s gonna target |
So I’m big, so is Big, so is Big Pun |
And you know like I know that you know that they both get dumb |
So just stop it, know my target is everyone |
5-foot Mexicans, Africans that’s 7'1″ |
I can even cater to all the Native Americans |
They can dance around my fire until the rain come |
I knew it from day one |
It took y’all 2,555 days to say I’m a great one? |
Seven years I’ve been proven and sheddin tears like I’m through with it |
Heard a track, went back and ruined it |
This music shit made my first baby moms jet |
We was broke, I was workin hard on my project |
I tried to tell her this is our way out the project |
If I don’t go 100% it won’t be no progress |
She looked at me like, «Yeah right, you job-less |
Tryin to rap, my bags is packed, see you in August» |
I had to eat that, she right, we ain’t had money |
But the Pampers was there and my son had a fat tummy |
All I ask was a little smile support |
What I get? Letters in the mail for child support |
But it’s cool, success is near, I can taste it |
Now you know all the times we argued was time wasted |
I took the hip-hop exam and I aced it |
Matter of fact, the board of rap didn’t know how to grade it |
I’m so left with it, effortlessly |
Y’all’ll be left on the shelf if it was left up to me |
Left y’all a while ago, made a left in the V. O |
The BQE feel in the water and was left in the sea |
Yeah, my flow liquid; too much H2O in it |
My system, I ain’t drown, I became a wave and rolled with it |
I make it hard for y’all to swim on the track |
After I rap, I’m the current that be pushin you back |
Givin me dap’s like, puttin your hand up in a hot pot |
Did you not know that I’m fire like a pot spot? |
If this was hopscotch, you would hop to the next box |
I hop to the next park and try to block shots |
On the ball court, I’m not of this element |
Went to the zoo when I was 3, not for the elephants |
Just for the smell of it — I’m a different breed |
They should’ve built a cage with a stage and had a Joell in it |
My attitude is not celibate, fuck you! |
I’ll violate your whole album with a one-two |
When I was one, two |
I used to take on one, two, three niggas in battles and won too |
About one, two, three years ago |
I had a 1−2 inch single on Rawkus that won two |
I’m the kind of dude you compare no one to |
Your engineer’s a boxer, he gotta punch you |
I’m one take with it, they did it, not me |
They’s the industry, it’s how they got me |
Pissed off, like a case of beer to the face |
Great taste, less fillin, I ain’t feeling y’all taste |
Dude your praise is weak; seven days a week |
Same joint on the radio, course they gon' say it’s heat |
Y’all use hypnotism, play the same beat |
Same rhymes all the time got they brain on repeat |
Y’all can hear me once and know that I am him |
The second comin of nice, I terrorize the pen |
Analyze the gems, disregard the ice movement |
I’m talkin to jewels that I use when I write, stupid |
When I do it, they gon' stay hatin |
Cause I’mma be on top of the game, both feet on my PlayStation |
You could try to find a safe haven |
But it’s nowhere to run and hide from this undeniable vacation (nah) |
Get out the car, I’m in the driver’s seat |
The gas tank is full and the ride is sweet |
The kind of rank you pull is the kind I eat |
The only stripes you’ll earn will remain on your stomach |
As the weight loss begins when your income plummets |
Send in the news coverage, I will make dudes public |
Extra extra, read all about it! |
Another artist missin, last seen in an outfit |
Had to be desgined by some big name stylist |
Any info please don’t be afraid to dial this |
718 — y’all motherfuckers ain’t fuckin with me |
I’mma violate, I’ll +Violate+ with the likes of 50 |
You’s a enemy homie if you ain’t ridin with me |
Friend or foe, answer the question or I’ll decide it quickly |
Feast your eyes on the rookie of the year |
The uniform I wear will fit none of my peers |
Jump ball is near — GET READY! |