Children of the Night, T.Shirt, Roc Marciano - '86 Mets (3:05 AM) lyrics

I find myself walking to work
And I can see the sunrise
Right over Queens Boulevard
And I say to myself
Why hasn't Queens gotten a trophy
In a very long time? I mean
I feel like we deserve to shine right now
Don't we? we gotta beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful team and I can see us parading
Down Roosevelt avenue right now

Put me on as a sub-, gettin' the glove
Love in my soul, Queens in my blood
Whoever thought I'd get paid for being a thug
Pretty much, beatin' 'em up
First time I got my dick sucked
Was down at the Rocks
Down the street from my crib, couple of blocs
Dawg I had spots, built like a trap star
Fuck it
I made a story and parked my backyard
Came from nothin' said I
Was gon' be something
First thing you need to know
Is millionaires ain't frontin'
Talking that hard work, niggas ain't bluffin'
Road to riches
All go through the same tunnel
Trouble looking for me down 21st
I'm in a brown Novaa with
Yellow stripes on mellow nights
Blowing L's, blowing past yellow lights
Me and my dawgs is tight, it's just the life

We like the '86 New York Mets
Blunts and drugs in effect
We passin' bottles in the middle of sex
Gotta get it together
'fore I'm bitin' the dust
Bury me with fronts, all together we rust

Late at night, we play the slice
After the 'caine heist
And hopped in something nice
We freezing like the inside of headlight
Spit it right, sip the Red Stripe
Send your life right to christ
We fire at the hour, ice lyrically
I'm a highlight
The son god-like, follow the guidelines
The men are kind of concubine
Play the sideline
Later retire at the high rise, Versace Rose
My body closed, rappers copy the flows
The cockiest with the hoes
Koro saki and rolls we shower posse's cold
And find your body with holes
While I be fucking with some Hollywood hoes
Swallow me whole, John Kani clothes
We on the coast
Niggas is at the bottom like toads
I'm supposed to watch the fly stones
And get the dimes home
And the S55- drive slow

Lansk- and Marciano, we are the Fonzarelli
I eat at Hollis Deli
Bag a bitch in Howard Beach
Her body talkin'
Hopefully this chick wanna eat
I gave her me she always
Open like a Georgia peach
Quarter way to I need an order at the Satyr
This Queens next chapter
We celebrate with vodka
And some big time crackers, Matzah
My speech is street
I never talk no dirt amongst the Castas
I brush my teeth
Anywhere we find the paper like an Alfie Kohn
Dawg, I'm after cash like I'm rosen
Colt 45, till I die and liquor in my liver
While you still full of
Shit like kitty litter
So what's better? all I do
Is crack these yolks
They lookin' at me like the
Unknown comic on celebrity roasts
Couldn't give a fuck, I was meant to go off
Y'all like unleavened bread
You was meant to be soft