[Verse 1: Meyhem Lauren]
Street religion's what I practice
Cuban link chain, my hat backwards
Accelerate weight, livin' the fastest
Covered in graphics, my shirts look like art pieces
My life story's like a sharp thesis
My heart preaches what my mind knows, sense over emotion
Never see pyramids built without devotion
I seen fiends suckin' glass like a pleco
The money that we use in the strip clubs is play dough
Friends become foes, foes become alliances
Gold bars get stashed inside appliances
Stayin' free, bein' a G, I'm like a scientist
Red and green belt on my waist, that's where the iron is
Queens founded, international minded
Dollar signs under my eyelid, I'm a hybrid
Designed with superior strength and personality
This Queens nigga's about to do it for the galaxy
The calculator's good, my scale is calibrated
I'm still a wolf, look at the work and then I salivated
Know a couple Rambos that hop out Lambos
I ain't really 'bout that, I'm good with my hand froze
Livin' lowkey, fuck doin' OT
Out the door and OT til I'm a OG, uh
With greys in my goatee
[?] motherfuckers calling me [?]
[Verse 2: Roc Marciano]
Check it
Bloody murder, a young version of Ike Turner
Watch your bird, I might burn her with the curler (Ahh)
Severely hurt her, but the word I can nurture
Long furs, his and hers in the house of worship (Uh)
At the funeral, I heard it got turnt up
Gangbangers from the rival turf shot the church up (Woo)
Live by the gun, die by it
Uh, what good is science to a man if he can't apply it? (Uh)
By many I was praised, but I'm unfit
Stared death in the eyes, never once flinched (Never)
Cocked the hammer on the gun, left a thumbprint
Come with me, young blood under covenant (Uh)
Put the hit on him, if he live, pull a mulligan (Do it over)
Chrome .357 with the rubber grip (Uh)
Sippin' Baileys on the rocks like Puffy
Pot lucky, pop, you cannot touch me
Hunt for treasure, strugglin' to touch cheddar
Fuck nigga prob'ly be a bum forever (Bum)
Was once tight but in due time, sever
Birds of a feather flock together - Roc (Namsayin' mane?)
(Glide off, nigga. Let it flow
That's a hell of a seafood spread brother made laid out for us, too)
Stay fly til the day I die, that's the slogan
Fly bitch bonin', 5-50 we the coldest
Ice chokers, cut the pie, ghetto stockbrokers
In '89, had a line for the smokers
Still rock gold like a king, my nuts is hangin' low
Nickel-plated .44 ain't for show
Nigga, leave ya thoughts on the sidewalk
For that fly talk, twist one and slide off
