| Light the leaf, lay sugar sweet
|
| Inhale the mystic
|
| The three shells by the toilet
|
| I’m futuristic
|
| I’m so ridiculous, my mental sickness-
|
| Women, love a light skinned brown with lots of thickness
|
| A Queen’s thing, no shoes in the tatami room
|
| Legs crossed sipping hot sake
|
| Big drugs like a sushi roll
|
| She see the cops, throw the drug up in a poopy hole
|
| Plus she steered the coupe
|
| Eyes shining like diamonds
|
| Smiling like new veneers
|
| Fuck her once, left a souvenir
|
| Plus she take it through the rear door
|
| I watched her change
|
| Now she balling, got a clear floor
|
| Halibut seared off
|
| I’m not impressed though
|
| Cigar full of pesto
|
| Smoking rings, linen from Ernesto
|
| Straight from Queens where it’s wise to wear a vest, bro
|
| We blowing up in the world, i’ll never let go
|
| «Coming From Queens» *scratching*
|
| It’s a Queen’s Thing (3x)
|
| The streets know how I get down
|
| I bang these weaponry
|
| So think «before I let go»
|
| Like Frankie Beverly
|
| Yeah, I creep with your wife, kid
|
| Her brain be heavenly
|
| Dribble on my balls so crazy
|
| Her game need a referee
|
| Come and run to me and complain
|
| Lean my press and squeeze
|
| I hit your frame
|
| Till you’re shit stained and wet with pee
|
| I’m a loose shooter
|
| The color of the coupe puter
|
| Stewardess on the dick on a plane to Aruba
|
| Introduced her to the mile high club and scooped her
|
| Told the bitch that I’m the QU Larry Hoover
|
| I run things in the sewers
|
| With flames from the Rugers
|
| Keep heat like saunas
|
| Crimes for the drama
|
| With body armor up under Louis Vuitton farmers
|
| Still trapped in the 80's, Dapper Dan crazy
|
| Tan Mercedes, whip it past the traffic jam, baby
|
| Hundred grand wrapped in rubber bands
|
| Niggas straight cheese
|
| It’s me |