Three

[Intro: Prodigy] For my G-pack niggas (Right... right...) Shooting at cops – nigga, what? (For my G-pack niggas...) Fuck the police N.Y.P.D. – New York Pricks and Dicks They can't stop our floss, straight up (For you crackheaded bitches) For my A.M. niggas (For you crackheaded bitches) My Ante Meridiem niggas – what up, dunn? Liquor store closing (No doubt, no doubt...) Hit the bootlegger, let's hit the bootlegger Straight up, yo [Verse 1: Prodigy] Yo dunn, we got guns and the grass, it's 3 at night I'm about to take the last swallow of the Eases Jesus Who got 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 Fuck a cab, let's take cracked-out Yolanda's Saab We gave that bitch two wibbles Then skated off with her vehicle for that pillow All outside, the borough – dunn, what happened to Queens? Like Sutphin and 1-2-1, Farmers and 116th They got us on the BQE, just to get a taste of that greenery We took our smoke out to Coney Island, posted up by The Himalaya Pina Colada Champales mixed with Dainy – that's St. Ide's in dunn lingo Spillin' it on the floor for our dead people While I spark the sequel Shit... my niggas got lungs When we smoke, that shit only go around once Dogs, we just killin' time Somebody just got they shit twist' on the block, fuckin' up the grind So, 'til it pipe down We just going at the sluts – bitch, we wanna fuck right now [Verse 2: Cormega] Son, I'm on a bench, high, eatin' chicken wings and french fries A crackhead fuck spent his last bucks on 6 dimes I'm one gram from big-time, a spliff away from overdosin' My heart is broken, my man started smokin' again P, I heard The Tunnel open again I spoke to Flex, he said he gonna let both of us in It's time I load up the autos and semis I wish my nigga Spank was in the physical form of life I got my Uptown Nikes, thugged out and icy Mad deep, jumpin' out the cocaine white Jeep Through with strugglin', so I resume hustlin' Rap game or crack game, my crew is still bubblin' Yo, 3 in the morning 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 motherfuckers how we rep this thing – ya know?