Music Video

Pharoahe Monch - Queens [Explicit]
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Pharoahe Monch
Pharoahe Monch
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Troy Donald Jamerson
Troy Donald Jamerson
Songwriter
Maxwell Rivera
Maxwell Rivera
Songwriter
Hod David
Hod David
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Pharoahe Monch
Pharoahe Monch
Producer
Lee Stone
Lee Stone
Producer

Lyrics

Heheheh. hey yo. There's a place I know where the bitches go Where they rob you for you dough and shit on the low In Southside. Queens, Queens Where if you say The Ave. People automatically know the path You don't have to do the math In Southside. Queens, Queens I knew this nigga named Donovan Astonishin the way he used to handle the pill God (word?) Let me speak about the way he used to dribble off his knees And in the middle at the same time guzzlin a beer Like a puzzle or a riddle - discoverin his path to the hoop Scoop, shot, tipped up the backboard OOPS Son got hops, never knew he woulda threw it Cool nigga, when it came to school he blew it A scholar in acute niggarisms and metropolitans Get taller and yo Donovan hey come around the block Dunn got the three sons, fuckin with coupons and refunds Food stamps, and still he was a champ Time to get loot for boots and kicks now Fuck hoops gotta impress the chicks now His momma said, "Donovan why are you On the corner of Linden," and got all rude He said, "Momma listen close I'ma tell you one time You're killin my high, plus I got a nine All I be doin is puttin in work So you can get a brand new dress for church I know the Devil lurks outside, man it's cold But I don't wanna get paid slow, and grow old Like poppa - plus I'm on parole I gotta Get paid off the streets, to make ends meet" With the back of her hand, she smacked him in the face Walked out of the crib-piece, pissed with no taste That night, rockin Nikes, eatin Mike'n'Ikes Slapboxin with a dyke on a bike too small Thinkin, "This time, next year, mom'll be able to. ohhh!" Shit from across the streets, niggaz approach - slow Well get the metal out, too late, the guns flash In the melee they wet him like Reggae Sunsplash Sun dashed with the quickness, back into the ride With a smile on his face, the picture of pride Blood comin from his mouth, now I'm at his side Kneelin over Donovan's body before he died Eyes - flutterin up and down in his head And with his last breath this is what he said He said, "Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?" Then I closed his eyes There's a place I know where the people go Where you can cash dough and chill on the low In Southside. Queens, Queens Where if you say The Ave. People automatically know the path You don't have to do the math In Southside. Queens, Queens And if you got a glock, you could bust shots Like?, when the block be hot In. what we talkin bout. Queens, Queens Uhh, c'mon uhh C'mon. uhh uhh I know where people go. Where you can cash dough and chill on the low.
Writer(s): Hod David, Maxwell Menard Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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