Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The PJ's , by - Raekwon. Release date: 20.05.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The PJ's |
| Yo man get ya ass in here man |
| You know the fuckin’Police lookin’for you man |
| Come on man, them niggaz just left here man |
| Come on man you know we got mad fuckin’blow |
| Up in the Motherfuckin’lab son |
| This nigga’s off the hook man |
| Yo Chef talk to these niggaz man |
| We baggin’ounces in the back of the Maz' |
| Ostrich on, Wollriches, three Quarter-ness |
| A.D.I.D.A.S. |
| wit Stan Smith’s |
| The grant’s on the Stove |
| And Aunt Lo about to come to the Lab-o |
| She givin’me some credit for clothes |
| That’s the slang work for bricks, dicks |
| Analyze you neva know who lookin' |
| It’s deranged world — wit snitches is Enterprisin' |
| Black Man hold on, like Magnums in the Wind |
| Cuz when it get cold, parole give a homey like ten |
| What’s the prognosis: drugs, guns, and ounces of Gold fish |
| Fly reefer out-town, bitches is stone six |
| And birds back in 18 and played C.R.E.A.M |
| Gray beam, it’s lean new A.D.I.D.A.S |
| jackets, flippin’up small dean |
| Visualizin’portraits, fresh cuts |
| Brand new Porsche’s |
| Going wit hand-to-hand, servin’the Source |
| Yo, runnin’from the Police |
| This day-to-day lifestyle where niggaz get arraigned |
| And get chain, it’s like Psycal (??Psycho??)--blao! |
| Drug Dealers, Star and Celebrities (Ghetto Celebs) |
| Even dudes wit a few felonies (A few felonies) |
| In 'The PJ’s’this what they tellin’me (Tellin'who?) |
| Sniffin’real hard but you not smellin’me (Smell me) |
| The crowd yellin’for 'Chef''Killa'and 'Pete Rock'(Pete Rock) |
| Got 'em movin’like the Millennium beat box (Beat Box) |
| Shit is all hood 'til they hear the heat cock (Whooo!) |
| Fall back and let the beat rock |
| Degrees of experience qualifies me to speak in certain areas |
| Where many can’t reach, so I prepared a speech for ya’ll |
| To then listen while I spit the hot venomous shit |
| My whole Clique sick, infested wit the itchy tigger finger mob related |
| Noodle-leanie universal flag Beanie |
| Son you wouldn’t want to see me black down, Masta .4 pound |
| Clip full of hallow tip round |
| Turn the fuckin’sound up My cup runneth over Hennessey, the Bill Bixby |
| Ninja Scroll, niggaz that roll |
| My son did four in the hole |
| Tenant population, neva told, facin’Parole |
| Sipped the old gold style, beat it in trial |
| My mild-mannered .9 Bandit, flow drunk |
| Look at Skunk weed stickin' |
| Razor sharp rip 'em, bites lift 'em |
| We at the Jam direct |
| The Ghetto Gospel, collaboration |
| One word could change the nation |
| No doubt! |
| Tuna Salad and Puma rackin'(??) |
| pushin’through the projects, captain |
| Get your money, yo show me no slackin' |
| We drive the meanest Joints |
| shoot through Medina wit a Evisu Jeans and Nina’s |
| Stop by Juniors we hittin’cheeba |
| Briefly, crackers observe |
| You got the undercovers |
| Niggaz just love us, we know they suckers |
| You know what? |
| — What? |
| Mosey don’t be nosey yo! |
| Watch these fake niggaz wit these Thank You cards |
| Them shits is bogey |
| Snitches in the hood up to no good |
| We would kill alot of Motherfuckers but the timin’ain’t good |
| So while my bankroll climbin' |
| I be out on consignment, breezin' |
| Ki’s wit 29 letter melted cheeses |
| All of my papers now in real estate |
| White folks been doin’this since '69 |
| It’s billions and killer weight |
| So prosperous moves wit the jewels, wit Wu Nikes on It’s cool don’t eva act like niggaz ain’t who (??) |
| One! |
| Yea! |
| we just sit back — in the Luxury Toasters |
| Slidin’through the Motherfuckin’projects |
| Stand away from you fake ass Motherfuckers |
| Layin’out in the BarberShop, gettin’fucked up cuts |
| We don’t respect ya’ll (Don't respect ya’ll) |
| Knaw’sayin'? |
| This is Shala Lewis Rich |
| Pete Rock, Masta Killa, The Vatican |
| One! |
| I’m gone |