| QB the whole NYC
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| We gonna bounce to this
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| To all my niggaz (yeah, yeah)
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| To all the ladies
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| Sometimes I wonder
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| Will a nigga go under because of his hunger
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| This game is risky
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| If a nigga slips six deep
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| Will these niggaz really miss me Dead partners too soon
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| All these niggaz flipping on me Cause I won’t give no loot to them
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| Sometimes I wonder
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| Sometimes I…
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| (Nas)
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| Top of the world is what I’m aiming at These niggaz is flaming gats at my circle
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| I catch you, my first reaction is to hurt you
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| I hit your bird too, two in your scalp then you out
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| Your thug crew is out, blood oozing out
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| Some serving caine
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| Knowing nothing about this murder game
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| Its easily told but hard to hear
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| When niggaz finally find out its real
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| Thats when they heart pumps fear
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| The real remains the weak will disappear
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| My words is 20/20, my vocals are crystal clear
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| 911 style sits on your mind like chrome
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| Lets say your brains is V12, put it in drive let it roam
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| What color? |
| Might as well make it same as your dome
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| You need your thoughts together, that means destination is unknown
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| As we travel on this road, an infinite path, I get into this math
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| Drop and get intense for this cash
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| Will I be subject to kill, live my life by a gat
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| Just when I think I made it out, the street is calling me back
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| (Nature)
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| I know a lot of fiends by they first name
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| Living in Queens, a lot of cats getting stuck for they chains
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| Holding dirty guns, the young owe dirty ones
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| Running wild, niggaz I raise hell above ground
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| Live in sin, holding rocks, benjamin grin
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| Figure once I got knocked, it would end
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| Never that
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| They try to tell me I don’t love my own
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| The thugs know, they ride my zone
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| Like the cyclone trademark
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| For coney isle, yeah you know me now
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| I’m giving fake hugs, phoney smiles
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| Stack profits, you know how the niggaz on the block get
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| Try to give you dap to stare at your pockets
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| Cruise advance nothing new just the rules of the land
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| You could tell if they wolves or lamb
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| You could fight a few, there’s a few that ran
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| Or you could feed them and lose your hand
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| What you wanna do?
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| (Nas)
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| Blessing be to the ones who left us Transcend into spiritual essences
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| In Allah’s arms you rest in To him we pray for my peeps
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| Floyd, Twin and Taiyeh, Mr. Sunny back in the day
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| Get the money yam, he use to say not only nice with hands
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| But streetsmart he was twice a man
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| I try to understand life’s deep plot
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| I think of Weewop, Shikeisha they both was mad nice on the rocks
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| They could have went pro but only God knows why not
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| Like my nigga Bing, let your sneakers not be clean
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| He’ll start snapping on you, making a scene
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| Kept the lye, a cool nigga warm heart and stayed fly
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| You still alive, I see you in your sister’s face
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| Are you there pa? |
| Or looking on from a distant place?
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| My thoroughbreds, Blackhead quiet but real
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| Expect to see your black jeep fly over the hill
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| In the spirit of Richie Lou tribute
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| Remind the world of the crimes that NY pigs do We miss you, Harry and Sonia
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| Rest in peace to Marty, a 41st side of Vernon soldier
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| T.J. |
| Black better known as Killer
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| I can’t replace you, but in me Havoc will always have a brother my nigga
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| My man Will till we meet again
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| You hold it up there, I’ll hold it down here
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| I hope you hear my prays clear
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| Repeats 3x |