Versuri - Versuri.ro
Versuri melodii artisti internationali
Featuring AZ] 
 Yeah yeah 
 Word up (Yeah son) 
 Yeah yo how this goin down nine-six 
 How we livin son (exoticness) 
 Nine-six exoticness (representin) 
 Know what I mean? (A ) 
 A (yo how we livin?) 
 This is New York City 
 Ninety-seven Sosa 
 A to Z up in the spot representin 
 Takin it back from here its sposed to be 
 Takin ya back son take it back 
 Check it 
 [Chorus] 
 Six digit trickin coke and henny mixin many listen 
 Fuckin give me mine dont wanna see no penny missin 
 Its old tradition how we click and fall in position 
 The rap coalition, we gettin rich an 
 [A ] 
 Poetically Im deadly like a crucifiction 
 Buddha addiction 
 Dismissin competition when they roll wit friction 
 My whole crew be schemin flippy 
 Like ixing for that chicken 
 Smith brothas and A on ya Mason-Dixon 
 Who want the steel cap feel the real rap 
 Patiently my whole crew waited and we rock premeditated 
 Chucked underground like the rap genie 
 And watch the shore by the rising tide now the whole world can see me 
 When they get foul thats when my style gets wild 
 I hang a man in front of a crowd without a trial 
 KAPOW, yo thats all she wrote end the quote 
 For frontin, a brotha got a dome and his legs broke 
 [Chorus: 2X] 
 [A ] 
 Yeah son I want it all your crib, cars and beepers 
 Wit hundred dollar sneakers my sounds blowin ya speakers 
 Burgundy landcruisers chrome rims on blue rugers 
 Lyrical hollow tip slug point trugers 
 [AZ] 
 Yo yo 
 Yo drug connects 
 Diamond cut bergets drippin wet 
 My hole is there from Cu-bec got her flippin checks 
 What, I push a black Lex with gold on my neck 
 You rockin wit a vest tryin to catch a hole in ya chest 
 Firm official, exotic girl but wanna be the ritual 
 Leavin lights shine light theyve been psyched to slip through 
 [A ] 
 I will abolish 
 MCs get straight up demolished 
 Yo my mind is like a nine I load it up wit knowledge 
 [Chorus: 2X] 
 The realism must continue where I live is like a battlefield 
 We all poor but on my block is like a half a mil 
 Surrounded by the most criminal type of elements 
 Blunts, stunts, gunshots, broken-down developments 
 Its all illegal, young juveniles wit the desert eagles 
 Street sweepers, heaters, soon-to-be retreaters 
 Its routine, people seem to go through a cycle 
 So confused, to choose between the bible or the rifle 
 Watch em stifle 
 Yo me an son gone escalate this 
 And get these papers run some capers while they catch the vapors 
 Yeah son, dont got no time for no chicken trickin 
 Its the lyrical addiction 
 Cuz me an AZ be politikin 
 [Chorus: 4X
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