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2:34 | 
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| from The Diplomats - More Than Music Vol.1 (2006) | |||||
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3:54 |
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| from The Diplomats - More Than Music Vol.1 (2006) | |||||
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4:25 |
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| from The Diplomats - More Than Music Vol.1 (2006) | |||||
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3:27 |
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| from The Diplomats - More Than Music Vol.1 (2006) | |||||
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2:56 |
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| from The Diplomats - More Than Music Vol.1 (2006) | |||||
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| from Juelz Santana - Final Destination (2004) | |||||
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2:43 | 
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from The Diplomats - More Than Music Vol.1 (2006)
(feat. Juelz Santana, Jim Jones, Hell Rell, JR Writer, 40 Cal & Unkasa)
Intro I dont care what yall say, what yall do, but yall better rep harlem until the goddamn music is through. Mr C. lets do it (Juelz Santana) All eyes on the honorable (who) Dipset, back to the grill again live at the barbeque (?) All my niggaz ride like a carnival Heat drawn all you niggaz lie like carpet do Get up and get ready, what up the kids ready Now that Im back the game is fucked the bitch let me You front, u stunt, You get heat clown Yeah punks jump up to get beat down (Jim Jones) Now eight years ago, I played the bench wit dimes Everybody on my corner is gettin bent off dimes Sittin back, sippin yak tryna get us some sneakers Sittin back in the Lac puffin nickels of reefer (?) on the strip in the midst of the drug trade (?) Im watchin for (?) in midst of the drug raid But niggaz gotta eat its like my stomach is touchin back New York rider for u suckerz that fuckin asked (Hell Rell) Now can I kick it yes I can They wanna know if Im G'd up, Yes i am Look Ive overpaid my dues I almost made the news Block kind of hot but the cocaine gon move If I was a brick u wouldnt know what to do wit me You'd probably pick me up get a stem and start using me Nobody built me, I made myself And you dont know how to shoot guns you grazed yourself (J.R. Writer) I was a fiend Before I became a teen I was dreams tossed for the latest beams (urrh) Made me cream cuz Aye They kept the powder in the tray way before it was Maybelene Im in to major stacks, Major stats, Hate on that Cam holla'd cuz imma bring his label plaques That aint made of plaque WHOA Your jewlry aint gold, You copped your jewlry from Hov They all fade to black (Un Kasa) I keep a nine in my dresser Lyrical proffessor Keep u under pressure Aint a nigga better Mind like a computer Six rugers Get your fam go to war with six shooters I fuck bitches in coupes they straight Hooters Get head and thank Buda (?) and sip Lua I go hard you runnin with State Troopers My niggaz straight shotters, Cock back and straight shootCha (Mr C.) Not in my book never that nigga, I told yall niggas to go till the fuckin Beat stopped. When (?) I had Juelz Santana, Jim Jones, Hell Rell, J.R. Writer, Un Kasa, |
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