Big Mike, French Montana - Reign In Harlem lyrics
[Big Mike, French Montana - Reign In Harlem lyrics]
Come on man that pressure, boy
This that 09 pressure, right, French?
This is Harlem the Coke Boys
Grease!
You need a fix, homie
The goons goin get you right
When it come to bricks
You know I got the systom right
Makin wrong turns, put you in the body bag
Lotta nniggas waitin for they turn
But it probly pass
Catty all black, money can't save you
When we put that 10 through your back
Bad blood, only when the
Streets fuck with you
You goin be layin flat in your bathtub
Masked up i ain't the best lyricest
But that ain't my thang
No, homie, that ain't my lane
Na, I do it for the hustlers, customs
Niggas in the crack house
Cuttin up, feds all rushin 'm
I did it all, didn't do it all alone
Not a damb thing changed
We bang till it's over, homie, it's so cold
My wrist so frozen
7 60 L I, sittin on Chroam shit
Now agree with me
When I'm rollin through your hood
With the AK in the back, they say Greasey
What's good?
And I never ever ever scream peace
Still on the run from the motherfuckin police
City with the bright lights, homie, I shine
Caught the beef, niggas drop a dime
Now how many dimes can you drop
Before them niggas wanna kill you?
Therefore I roll with the squad
The murder game's not for you
Niggas gonna blead
Like the blood from the issue
I deal with your issues
I'm always gonna get you
The nigga need a tissue
The homies gonna rince you
Take the back door
Come hit you with the missiles
Shootin all them bullit's
On the east coast ridin
This the black Coke dealer
Me and the million dollar scribin
D price go up, the feends they be wilden
D boy from Harlem, the D boy from Harlem
This that 09 pressure, right, French?
This is Harlem the Coke Boys
Grease!
You need a fix, homie
The goons goin get you right
When it come to bricks
You know I got the systom right
Makin wrong turns, put you in the body bag
Lotta nniggas waitin for they turn
But it probly pass
Catty all black, money can't save you
When we put that 10 through your back
Bad blood, only when the
Streets fuck with you
You goin be layin flat in your bathtub
Masked up i ain't the best lyricest
But that ain't my thang
No, homie, that ain't my lane
Na, I do it for the hustlers, customs
Niggas in the crack house
Cuttin up, feds all rushin 'm
I did it all, didn't do it all alone
Not a damb thing changed
We bang till it's over, homie, it's so cold
My wrist so frozen
7 60 L I, sittin on Chroam shit
Now agree with me
When I'm rollin through your hood
With the AK in the back, they say Greasey
What's good?
And I never ever ever scream peace
Still on the run from the motherfuckin police
City with the bright lights, homie, I shine
Caught the beef, niggas drop a dime
Now how many dimes can you drop
Before them niggas wanna kill you?
Therefore I roll with the squad
The murder game's not for you
Niggas gonna blead
Like the blood from the issue
I deal with your issues
I'm always gonna get you
The nigga need a tissue
The homies gonna rince you
Take the back door
Come hit you with the missiles
Shootin all them bullit's
On the east coast ridin
This the black Coke dealer
Me and the million dollar scribin
D price go up, the feends they be wilden
D boy from Harlem, the D boy from Harlem