Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Prodigy
Prodigy
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Albert Johnson
Albert Johnson
Composer
C. McKay
C. McKay
Composer
Alan Maman
Alan Maman
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
The Alchemist
The Alchemist
Producer
Sheldon Guide
Sheldon Guide
Editing Engineer
Nino Cacacabala
Nino Cacacabala
Assistant Engineer
Steve Sola for Plain Truth
Steve Sola for Plain Truth
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

(Prodigy and Cormega) For my G-pack niggas Right, right Shooting at cops nigga what For my G-pack niggas F**k 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 Meridian niggaz; what up dunn? Liqour store closed Hit the bootlegger, let's hit the bootlegger Straight up, yo (Prodigy) Yo dunn, we got guns in the grass, it's three at night I'm about to take the last swallow of the Eases Jesus Who got fifty 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**k a cab, lets take cracked-out Yolanda's Saab We gave that bitch two wibbles And skated off with her vehicle for that pillow All outside the borough, dunn what happened to Queens Like Supton(?) and 1-2-1, Farmers and 116th The got us on the B-Q-E, 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 Dani' That's St. Ide's in dunn lingo Spillin it on the floor for our dead people While I spark the sequel shit; my niggaz got lungs When we smoke, that shit only go around once Dogs, we just killin time Somebody just got they shit twisted on the block f**kin up the grind So, 'til it pipe down We just going at these sluts - bitch, we wanna f**k right now {*overlapped my Cormega's first line*} (Cormega) Son I'm on a bench high eatin chicken wings and french fries A crackhead f**k spent his last bucks on six 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's gonna let both of us in Its time to load up the autos and semis I wish my niggas bank was in a physical form unlike I got my uptown nikes thugged out and icy Mad deep, jumpin out the Cocaine white Jeep Through was strugglin, so I resume hustlin Rap game or crack game my crew is still bubblin Yo, three in the morning and the D's on the corna still Seems we were born to kill, yo P meet me on the hill So we can jet through Queens in SUV's Show these motherf**kers how we rep this thang, ya know?
Writer(s): Albert Johnson, Alan Maman, Cory Mckay Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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