Pete Rock, Raekwon, Masta Killa - The PJ's lyrics
[Pete Rock, Raekwon, Masta Killa - The PJ's lyrics]
Yo man get ya ass in here man
You know the fucking Police
Looking for you man?
Come on man, them niggas just left here man
Come on man, you know we got mad fucking blow
Up in the motherfucking lab son
This nigga's off the hook man
Yo, Chef talk to these niggas man
We're bagging ounces in the back of the Maz'
Ostrich on, Woolrich's, three Quarter-ness
Adidas with Stan Smith's
The grant's on the Stove
And Aunt Lo about to come to the Lab-o
She giving me some credit for clothes
That's the slang work for bricks, dicks
Analyse you never know who looking
It's deranged world
Where snitches is enterprising
Black Man hold on, like magnums in the wind
Cause when it get cold
Parole give a homey like ten
What's the prognosis drugs
Guns and ounces of goldfish
Fly reefer outta town, bitches is stone six
And birds back with 18 and played CREAM
Gray beam it's lean new Adidas jackets
Flipping up small dean
Visualizing portrait's, fresh cuts
Brand new Porsche's
Going with hand-to hand, serving the Source
Yo, running from the Police
This day-to day lifestyle
Where niggas get arraigned, and get chain
It's like a cycle blaow!
Drug dealers, stars and celebrities
(Ghetto celebs)
Even dudes with a few felonies
(A few felonies)
In the PJ's this what they telling me
(Telling who?)
Sniffing real hard but you're not smelling me
(Smell me) the crowd yelling for Chef
Killa and Pete Rock (Pete Rock)
Got 'em moving like the millennium beat box
(Beat Box)
Shit is all good 'til they hear the heat cock
(Whooo) fall back and let the beat rock
Degrees of experience qualifies me
To speak in certain areas
Where many can't reach
So I prepared a speech for
Y'all to then listen
While I spit the hot venomous shit
My whole clique sick
Infested with the itchy trigger finger
Mob related
Noodle leanie universal flag beanie
Son you wouldn't want to see me black down
Masta 4 pound clip full of hallow tip round
Turn the fucking sound up
My cup running over Hennessy the Bill Bixby
Ninja Scroll, niggas that roll
My son did four in the hole
Tenant population, neva told, facing parole
Sipped the old gold style, beat it in trial
Mild mannered, 9 bandit, flow drunk
Look at skunk weed sticking
Razor sharp rip 'em, bites lift 'em
We at the Jam direct, the ghetto gospel
Collaboration
One work could change the nation no doubt!
Drug dealers, stars and celebrities
(Ghetto celebs)
Even dudes with a few felonies
(A few felonies)
In the PJ's this what they telling me
(Telling who?)
Sniffing real hard but you're not smelling me
(Smell me) the crowd yelling for Chef
Killa and Pete Rock (Pete Rock)
Got 'em moving like the millennium beat box
(Beat Box)
Shit is all good 'til they hear the heat cock
(Whooo) fall back and let the beat rock
Tuna salad and Puma rackets
Pushing through the projects, captain
Get your money, yo show me no slacking
We drive the meanest joints
Shoot through Medina with Evisu
Jeans and nina's
Stop by juniors, we're hitting cheeba
Briefly, crackers observe
You got the undercovers
Niggas just love us, yo
We know that they suckers
You know what? What? Mosey don't be nosey yo!
Watch these fake niggas with
These Thank You cards, them shit's is bogey
Snitches in the hood up to no good
We would kill a lot of mothafuckas
But the timing ain't good
So while my bankroll climbing, I'll
Be out on consignment, breezing
Ki's with 29 letters melted the cheeses
All of my paper now in real estate
White folks been doing this since '69
It's billions and killer weights
So prosperous moves with the Jews
With Wu Nikes on it's cool
Don't you ever act like niggas ain't new
One!
Drug dealers, stars and celebrities (Uh)
Even dudes with a few felonies
(A few felonies)
In the PJ's this what they telling me
(Telling me)
Sniffing real hard but you're not smelling me
(Smell me) the crowd yelling for 'Chef'
'Killa' and 'Pete Rock' (PR)
Got 'em moving like the millennium beat box
(Beat Box)
Shit is all good 'til they hear the heat cock
(Whooo) fall back and let the beat rock
Yeah!
We just sit back in the luxury toasters
Sliding through the motherfucking projects
Stand away from you fake ass muh'fuckers
Laying up in the barbershop
Getting fucked up cuts
We don't respect y'all
(we don't respect y'all) knaw'sayin'?
This is Shallah Louis Rich
Pete Rock, Masta Killa, The Vatican
One, I'm gone!
You know the fucking Police
Looking for you man?
Come on man, them niggas just left here man
Come on man, you know we got mad fucking blow
Up in the motherfucking lab son
This nigga's off the hook man
Yo, Chef talk to these niggas man
We're bagging ounces in the back of the Maz'
Ostrich on, Woolrich's, three Quarter-ness
Adidas with Stan Smith's
The grant's on the Stove
And Aunt Lo about to come to the Lab-o
She giving me some credit for clothes
That's the slang work for bricks, dicks
Analyse you never know who looking
It's deranged world
Where snitches is enterprising
Black Man hold on, like magnums in the wind
Cause when it get cold
Parole give a homey like ten
What's the prognosis drugs
Guns and ounces of goldfish
Fly reefer outta town, bitches is stone six
And birds back with 18 and played CREAM
Gray beam it's lean new Adidas jackets
Flipping up small dean
Visualizing portrait's, fresh cuts
Brand new Porsche's
Going with hand-to hand, serving the Source
Yo, running from the Police
This day-to day lifestyle
Where niggas get arraigned, and get chain
It's like a cycle blaow!
Drug dealers, stars and celebrities
(Ghetto celebs)
Even dudes with a few felonies
(A few felonies)
In the PJ's this what they telling me
(Telling who?)
Sniffing real hard but you're not smelling me
(Smell me) the crowd yelling for Chef
Killa and Pete Rock (Pete Rock)
Got 'em moving like the millennium beat box
(Beat Box)
Shit is all good 'til they hear the heat cock
(Whooo) fall back and let the beat rock
Degrees of experience qualifies me
To speak in certain areas
Where many can't reach
So I prepared a speech for
Y'all to then listen
While I spit the hot venomous shit
My whole clique sick
Infested with the itchy trigger finger
Mob related
Noodle leanie universal flag beanie
Son you wouldn't want to see me black down
Masta 4 pound clip full of hallow tip round
Turn the fucking sound up
My cup running over Hennessy the Bill Bixby
Ninja Scroll, niggas that roll
My son did four in the hole
Tenant population, neva told, facing parole
Sipped the old gold style, beat it in trial
Mild mannered, 9 bandit, flow drunk
Look at skunk weed sticking
Razor sharp rip 'em, bites lift 'em
We at the Jam direct, the ghetto gospel
Collaboration
One work could change the nation no doubt!
Drug dealers, stars and celebrities
(Ghetto celebs)
Even dudes with a few felonies
(A few felonies)
In the PJ's this what they telling me
(Telling who?)
Sniffing real hard but you're not smelling me
(Smell me) the crowd yelling for Chef
Killa and Pete Rock (Pete Rock)
Got 'em moving like the millennium beat box
(Beat Box)
Shit is all good 'til they hear the heat cock
(Whooo) fall back and let the beat rock
Tuna salad and Puma rackets
Pushing through the projects, captain
Get your money, yo show me no slacking
We drive the meanest joints
Shoot through Medina with Evisu
Jeans and nina's
Stop by juniors, we're hitting cheeba
Briefly, crackers observe
You got the undercovers
Niggas just love us, yo
We know that they suckers
You know what? What? Mosey don't be nosey yo!
Watch these fake niggas with
These Thank You cards, them shit's is bogey
Snitches in the hood up to no good
We would kill a lot of mothafuckas
But the timing ain't good
So while my bankroll climbing, I'll
Be out on consignment, breezing
Ki's with 29 letters melted the cheeses
All of my paper now in real estate
White folks been doing this since '69
It's billions and killer weights
So prosperous moves with the Jews
With Wu Nikes on it's cool
Don't you ever act like niggas ain't new
One!
Drug dealers, stars and celebrities (Uh)
Even dudes with a few felonies
(A few felonies)
In the PJ's this what they telling me
(Telling me)
Sniffing real hard but you're not smelling me
(Smell me) the crowd yelling for 'Chef'
'Killa' and 'Pete Rock' (PR)
Got 'em moving like the millennium beat box
(Beat Box)
Shit is all good 'til they hear the heat cock
(Whooo) fall back and let the beat rock
Yeah!
We just sit back in the luxury toasters
Sliding through the motherfucking projects
Stand away from you fake ass muh'fuckers
Laying up in the barbershop
Getting fucked up cuts
We don't respect y'all
(we don't respect y'all) knaw'sayin'?
This is Shallah Louis Rich
Pete Rock, Masta Killa, The Vatican
One, I'm gone!
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