A Queens Story

Rest in peace to Black Just

Riding through Jamaica, Queens in his black truck

Timbs was 40 below, waves to the side of his dome

Definition of good nigga, yo

Gangsters don’t die, niggas only become immortal

Angels don’t only fly, they walk right before you

In front of you, it’s foul what this money could do

Cash corrupts the loyal

I hung with E-Money, too, the fucking truth

Fucking with Stretch from Live Squad

I could’ve died the same night that Stretch died

I just got out of his ride

He dropped me off and drove to Springfield

November thirtieth, another Queens king killed

It fucked me up, y’all

I was just trying to make it with Steve Stoute

The legal way, drug-free route

Back in the days, they was sleeping on us

Brooklyn keep on taking it, Manhattan keep on making it

Trying to leave Queens out

But we was pulling them Beems out, them M3’s out

Pumping bringing them D's out

Rastas selling chocolate weed inside of a weed house

Colosseum downstairs, gold teeth mouth

Astoria warriors, 8th Street, twin buildings

Vernon, can’t even count the Livingston children

Justice in Ravenswood, nice neighborhood

Caught sleeping out there, be a wrap, though

Bridge niggas be up in Petey’s ten racks, yo

A simple bet on a serious cash flow

Get money, Manolo, welcome home, Castro

Queensbridge unified all I ask for

Let’s do it for D.U, say what up to Snatch, yo

I just salute real niggas when I pass through

Niggas is very hungry for that bank robbery

Bury money, trying to get to a Benz from a Hyundai

The Queens Courthouse right next to the cemetery

Niggas’ rap sheets look like obituaries

You be starving in Kew Gardens

Bolognas and milk from a small carton

You could still feel chills from the team

On 118, my nigga Ben fly by like it’s a dream

His face on his Shirt Kings

Laced in a pinky ring, in his black Benz murking

Back when Black Rock & Ron was on the map

Cheeba in yellow sacks, dope sold in laundromats

Thugs bark, getting amped from weed

Over the heart of champions, see

Ever since back then, a nigga been about the dough

(You all know how the story go)

Any other real niggas in the world besides us, I ask?

Probably is, but odds are we’ll never cross paths

Put your glass high if you made it out the stash spot

And here to tell a story and celebrate the glory

Drinks in the air for my niggas not here

This how we do, I see you D.U

Queens to the heavens, salute the hood legends

Crack the Patrón, Hennessy, and Glenlivets

Champagne bottles drowning out the sorrows

Hope the memories’ll get us through tomorrow

I’m a real O.G cause back in nine-three

Niggas couldn’t fuck with me, sipping 'gnac since I was little

Laid back in a rental

Mouth shining, Eddie’s gold caps all up in the dental

Nigga getting money now, but you know I’m still mental, but not simple

Put your glass high if you made it out the stash spot

And here to tell your story and celebrate the glory

Drinks in the air for my niggas not here

This for the fallen soldiers

Hold it down, I told ya

Pop another bottle and keep the smoke rolling

Watch the con realest channel his mom’s spirit

Goosebumps cover me, mother’s here, I could feel her

Blood of Christ covers me, our savior and healer

Drug prices up or down, I know a few dealers

And some accident murderers, they act like they killed on purpose

Liars brag they put work in

You ain’t mean to murk him, your gun’s a virgin

Better stay on point, if not, it’s curtains

Bebo Posse reincarnated through me, probably

If music money didn’t stop me

I never claimed to be the toughest

Though I’m to blame for a few faces reconstructed

It’s the game that we was stuck with

Now I’m the only black in the club with rich Yuppie kids

Sad thing, this is the top, but where the hustlers went?

No familiar faces around, ain’t gotta grab the musket

It’s all safe and sound, champagne by the bucket

Where them niggas I shouted out on my first shit?

Bo cooking blow, fucking slay that, where Turkey went?

Old videos show niggas that was murdered since

Another reason to get further bent

Put your glass high if you made it out the stash spot

And here to tell your story and celebrate the glory

Drinks in the air for my niggas not here

This for the fallen soldiers

Hold it down, I told ya

Pop another bottle and keep the smoke rolling