Three Lyrics

(prodigy)

for my G pack niggas
rite, rite
we be shootin at cops nigga wat
G pack niggas
yo f*ck the police
NYP new york pricks are dicks
they can't stop our floss
stay up
? for my A.M. niggas ?
watup dun
hit the bootleggas the bootleggas

yo, yo dun we got guns in the grass
it's three at night
im about to take the last swallow of the eases jesus
who go 50 on the next tree
we gotta stop at the store we need D batteries for the theme music
snatch the biscuits from out the lawn
f*ck a cab lets take cracked out your lawns are solved
we gave that bitch 2 wibbles
then skated off with a vehicle for the pillow
all outside the borough dun wat happened to queens
like sumthin in 1 2 1
farmers in 1 sixteenth
they got us on the B.Q.E.
just to get a taste of that greenery
we took our smoke out the coney island
post it up by the himalaya
pina coladas, champeles mixed wit daney
that saint oz is dun lingle
spillin it on the floor for our dead people
while I spark the sequal
my niggas got lungs when we smoke that shit only go around once
dogs we just killing time
somebody just got they shit twist
on the block f*ckin up the grind so
till it pipe down we jus blowin at the sluts
bitch i wanna f*ck rite now

(cormega)
son im on the bench high
eating chicken wings and french fries
a crackhead f*ck
spent his last bucks on 6 dimes
im 1 gram from big time
a spliff away from overdosing
my heart is broken
my man started smoking again
P i heard the tunnel open again
i spoke to flex
he said he gonna let both of us in
it's time to load up the auto's and semi's
i wish my niggas bank was in a physical form of life
i got my uptown nikes
thugged out and icey
mad deep
jumping out the cokehead white jeep
through was strugglin
so i resumed hustlin
rap game or crack game
my crew is still bubblin
yo 3 in the mornin
and the D's on the corner still
seems we were born to kill
yo P meet me on the hill
so we could jet through queens in SUV's
and show these mothaf*ckas how we rep this thing ya know

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