| Man y’all niggas don’t know me, let me finish my water
|
| So much more to me, I feel like I oughta
|
| Tell you all about the minority from the corner
|
| Just tryna make some money to feed my daughter
|
| Well in my case, two sons, in the hood with loose crumbs
|
| And niggas that should be hooked on phonics
|
| Hooked to new guns, even the police shoots them
|
| This where the Puerto Rican member of that group from
|
| Half gallons of cognac, on the train car packed
|
| Headed up to the Deuce to bring some broads back
|
| Poof, get into somethin', where my hawk at?
|
| Ooh this finna get disgusting
|
| Man all you fake hood niggas, boy y’all ain’t missin' nothin'
|
| We bring gun barrels to fights
|
| I miss my cousin, they did him like Harold at the light
|
| But we rode down on that nigga like Cam’Ron on that bike
|
| Tryna get paid in full, my trays was full
|
| A half moon made my fade look cool, a younger Yaowa
|
| Sunflower seeds, house keys in the Eddie Bauer
|
| Hood top to bottom, pass the bottle around
|
| Everybody tap the bottom, take out my tops and bottoms
|
| Light a L in the staircase and start a cypher
|
| Freestylin' made my bars get tighter
|
| I 'member the time I’d say, «Yo spark the lighter»
|
| Breathe in these trees and start a forest fire
|
| Niggas went crazy, then I got my ass whipped for pullin' an all nighter
|
| Helped tag in the lumber yard
|
| Me and Hunt threw the Ps, cops and robbers
|
| In the stairs, man I see it like I’m there, swear to fuckin' God
|
| Growin' up, it was fuckin' hard
|
| But that’s why I’m fuckin' hard
|
| in the summer, low whites under
|
| More sun, more aggie, more fights, none of
|
| Them bitches wanted it but Leisha, man she throw that thunder
|
| Grease on her face, scarfed up in the Polo pajamas
|
| Johnny pump open, wet your car, get bold if you wanna
|
| Will wet your car with somethin' different, roll back 'round that corner
|
| Hip-hop with Mellie then hit pot and scaley
|
| Then sneak up to my roof and get sick mop from Shelly
|
| I’m a project nigga, in my project lobby
|
| Takin' project pictures with my project army
|
| Standin' in the hall and lighin' candles for the fallen
|
| Reminiscin', sippin', snifflin', and missin' all them
|
| Hide piece and butter, come and get your supper
|
| A game of steel and bacon, niggas waitin' on their number
|
| I remember when it was hard if you could go outside
|
| You was watchin' from your window, nigga
|
| Light a L in the staircase and start a cypher
|
| Freestylin' made my bars get tighter
|
| I 'member the time I’d say, «Yo spark the lighter»
|
| Breathe in these trees and start a forest fire
|
| Niggas went crazy, then I got my ass whipped for pullin' an all nighter
|
| Helped tag in the lumber yard
|
| Me and Hunt threw the Ps, cops and robbers
|
| In the stairs, man I see it like I’m there, swear to fuckin' God
|
| Growin' up, it was fuckin' hard
|
| But that’s why I’m fuckin' hard
|
| Dutch paper
|
| Incinerator
|
| Elevators
|
| Nosey neighbors
|
| Guns barkin'
|
| Cops barkin'
|
| Dogs barkin'
|
| My mom’s barkin'
|
| Aye fellas I gotta get out of here, man, my mom’s trippin'. |
| I’m comin' up now.
|
| I’d like to thank everybody in Cooper Projects, Brooklyn for turnin' that
|
| little boy into the man that I am today. |
| Yeah me no play |