(Verse: Dave East) I know these three kids up in the projects Get money, shoot anything mov’in that’s they mind set One of them’s seventeen, he ain’t meet his mom’s yet Menace to the city, Nike gloves, ain’t got no palm sweat (no) He a shooter but he try’in the hustle work (work) In love with them latest Jordan, plus he want another shirt The youngest had his three older sisters and brother work (they work) Came to get rich, he sent me a text, like “come to church” (come on) Where was I, oh yeah one tenth in Amsterdam (west side) He said he try’in to expand, he tired of going hand to hand Just left the precinct, stash money, paid the bail out Grand-moms whipp’in , she just told him, “get the hell out” (you get outta here) Copped a new 40 can’t wait to let a shell out (baow) I told that nigga chill out, smoke this so we can bill now (right on) I just had came up on a new connect ‘cuz numbers blow'in Plus all fronted, we just got to get this money (got to get this money) I know my young’in starv’in, I can hear it in his stomach Tell Ronnie line it up but talk clear I know you blunted (call your man) Now Ronnie was his right hand, just recently he came home He was from the west side but the on east his name known (yo Ronnie what up) He was in to pistols, credit cards extort’en, fake dealers He a loose cannon but somebody we can take with us My other little homie was the fly one His mind set was why rob pies when we can buy some (let’s kiver) “This copper use to had some bricks At nineteen five that’s tax'in (tax'in) Niggas savages, disappeared on some abara-kadabra shit Left without a trace, last seen walk’in on the Madison Skipped townly with the Maryland” I told Ty see how niggas did your uncles (you seen that) Everyone got to eat, they’d kill you over a bundle Now it’s me, Ronnie, Ty, and G-Butter They can hate us, all this guwap gonna make The streets love us The plan in motion my plug with it, consignment time That’s the way to get it when you without a dime Just make sure that the connect gets his first We can stack a couple weeks, trust me I’d did worst (trust me) He fronted four thangs, past them on to Ronnie Dropped him off at Metro North, that shit was all designy (water) Four bricks all taped up in a footlocker bag I found the block, called G-butter like “Ronnie needs him bad” (yo go meet up with him) He hit me back like “yo East I needs some cash Ty got beef over a bitch that he didn’t need to smash (huh?) Niggas caught’em at the club and done nearly beat his ass He didn’t have no-body with him No hammer that he could grab” (damn) Copy, asked him where he at, he told be saint nicky’s (aright) Fresh out his bitch’s because he came to quick I give him fifteen hundred to bang with And two Glock 40s and both them bitches stainless Tell Ty “he got to move smarter” Ronnie got the ‘jects situated we can start a new carter (Ronnie got that downtown side town lock) Rid’in down two fifth right on 2nd before Wagner Block shutoff, cops circle’in and lights flash’in (fuck) I seen this before, somebody proly got rocked But I’m from Harlem, I found out no need for ask’in Call’in Ronnie this nigga ain’t picking up Phone ring’in, what the fuck? I hope nobody stuck’em up How I’m go’in to pay this connect if niggas took all the drugs I know they say think positive but that’s how niggas give it up Still calling Ronnie, G-Butter hit me clicked over (that shit on the phone) He said he couldn’t find Ty, I’m try’in to flip bricks over Word is that my man Ronnie caught a head shot (no pass) Niggas ran up in the apartment 4B, dead lock Nobody to end to an exit, execution style Robbed him for them birdies, you heard me Deep as a root canal Shots rang out, old ladies and kids scream’in, alarms ring’kin Brim the block you hear them tires screech’in Now the guts good, Ronnie dead, Ty miss’in (damn) Butter split with the money, in guns no religion Four niggas different motives, different situation Cops pull’in up it’s time for me to switch locations (I’m out of here) I got the drop niggas from down town caught Ronnie slippin' (word) Try’in to murder everything moving won’t do nobody different (all of’em, all of them niggas) Got to get this guwap for my connect or he com’in for my neck Noth’in personal just business (business) Ty made the news they found him floatin in the Hudson G-Butter set up in Virginia small time hustle’in Fifteen hundred and some guns I’ll never see again Ty got bodied, I ain’t trust’in niggas breath’in (nobody) I’m gotta skip town the plug try’in to have a meet’in Four bricks gone and couple of homies finished The whole plan changed I swear it was only minutes (minutes) My three little homies from the projects Got me in some shit, I’m on the run, there ain’t no pies left
Damn, the fuck I’m gonna do man? I gotta get the fuck out of here man I ain’t got no money, no worth, noth’in for the connect Streets is on fire, niggas done bodied my niggas, fuck! Now call the plane connect, we off this word You got your passport, we out It’s too hot my nigga I can’t be around wordTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
