The Diplomats - Dipset Symphony lyrics
[The Diplomats - Dipset Symphony lyrics]
Lyrics
I don't give a fuck who's first or who's last
The Dipset is gonna rock this shit out
At a drop of a brick, nigga
I don't care what y'all say
I don't care what y'all do
But y'all better rep Harlem until the
God damned music is through
Mister Cee, let's Go
All eyes on the honorable, who?
Dipset, back to the grill again
Live at the barbecue
Beefs on, all my kids ride like a carnival
Heat's drawn, all you kids lie
Like carpet do
Get up and get ready, what up? The kids ready
Now that I'm back, the game is fucked
The bitch let me
You front, you stunt, you get heat, clown
Yeah, punks jump up, to get beat down
Now eight years ago
I played the bench with dimes
Everybody in my park was
Getting bent off dimes
Pitchin' packs on the block
Tryin' to get us some sneakers
Sippin' yak, Henney, rock
Puffin' nickels of reefer
I'm pumpin' on the strip
In the midst of the drug trade
I'm watching for the blitz in the
Midst of the drug raid for niggas gotta eat
It's like my stomach is touching back
New York's rider man
For you suckers I'm fuckin' back
Now, can I kick it? Yes, I can
They wanna know if I'm G'd up, yes, I am
Look, I overpaid my dues
I almost made the news
The block kinda hot but the cocaine gon' move
If I was a brick
You wouldn't know what to do with me
You'd probably cook me up, get a stem
And start using me
Nobody built me, I made myself
And you don't know how to shoot guns
You'd graze yourself
I was a fiend, before I became a teen
It was dreams, toss for the latest beams
Made me cream 'cause hey they kept the
Kept the powder in the tray
Way before it was Maybelene
I'm into major stacks, major stats
Hate on that cam, holla 'cause I'm gonna
Bring his label plaques
That ain't made of plat', whoa
Your jewelery ain't gold
You cop your jewelery from Hov
They all fade to black
When I was nine years old
I realized who was the road
At the end I cop a Benz when I chop some O's
40 smokin' lye, optimoz, poppin' mo's
We both shoppin'
Difference is you coppin' clothes
I'll show you how to drop a Rolls
Whether a Phantom or a flower
I'm a killer like Jaffi Joe
I'm from where they made the cocky flow
While hoes puck up on my stick
Like you trying to hit a hockey goal
I keep a nine in my dresser
Lyrical professor
Keep you under pressure, ain't a nigga better
Mind like a computer, sick shooters
Yo, your fam goin' to war with six shooters?
I bone bitches with coupes and big hooters
Give head, and piff Buddha
Pump bricks and sip 'Lúa
How you hard? You runnin' with state troopers
My niggas is straight shooters, cock back
And straight shoot you
Not in my book, never that, nigga
I'll ask y'all niggas to go
Till the motherfuckin' beat stops
When I had the Dipset right
I had Juelz Santana, jim Jones
Hell Rell, JR Writer, 40 Cal
Un Kasa, Dipset forever, nigga
Mister Cee signin' off, Duke Da God
I don't give a fuck who's first or who's last
The Dipset is gonna rock this shit out
At a drop of a brick, nigga
I don't care what y'all say
I don't care what y'all do
But y'all better rep Harlem until the
God damned music is through
Mister Cee, let's Go
All eyes on the honorable, who?
Dipset, back to the grill again
Live at the barbecue
Beefs on, all my kids ride like a carnival
Heat's drawn, all you kids lie
Like carpet do
Get up and get ready, what up? The kids ready
Now that I'm back, the game is fucked
The bitch let me
You front, you stunt, you get heat, clown
Yeah, punks jump up, to get beat down
Now eight years ago
I played the bench with dimes
Everybody in my park was
Getting bent off dimes
Pitchin' packs on the block
Tryin' to get us some sneakers
Sippin' yak, Henney, rock
Puffin' nickels of reefer
I'm pumpin' on the strip
In the midst of the drug trade
I'm watching for the blitz in the
Midst of the drug raid for niggas gotta eat
It's like my stomach is touching back
New York's rider man
For you suckers I'm fuckin' back
Now, can I kick it? Yes, I can
They wanna know if I'm G'd up, yes, I am
Look, I overpaid my dues
I almost made the news
The block kinda hot but the cocaine gon' move
If I was a brick
You wouldn't know what to do with me
You'd probably cook me up, get a stem
And start using me
Nobody built me, I made myself
And you don't know how to shoot guns
You'd graze yourself
I was a fiend, before I became a teen
It was dreams, toss for the latest beams
Made me cream 'cause hey they kept the
Kept the powder in the tray
Way before it was Maybelene
I'm into major stacks, major stats
Hate on that cam, holla 'cause I'm gonna
Bring his label plaques
That ain't made of plat', whoa
Your jewelery ain't gold
You cop your jewelery from Hov
They all fade to black
When I was nine years old
I realized who was the road
At the end I cop a Benz when I chop some O's
40 smokin' lye, optimoz, poppin' mo's
We both shoppin'
Difference is you coppin' clothes
I'll show you how to drop a Rolls
Whether a Phantom or a flower
I'm a killer like Jaffi Joe
I'm from where they made the cocky flow
While hoes puck up on my stick
Like you trying to hit a hockey goal
I keep a nine in my dresser
Lyrical professor
Keep you under pressure, ain't a nigga better
Mind like a computer, sick shooters
Yo, your fam goin' to war with six shooters?
I bone bitches with coupes and big hooters
Give head, and piff Buddha
Pump bricks and sip 'Lúa
How you hard? You runnin' with state troopers
My niggas is straight shooters, cock back
And straight shoot you
Not in my book, never that, nigga
I'll ask y'all niggas to go
Till the motherfuckin' beat stops
When I had the Dipset right
I had Juelz Santana, jim Jones
Hell Rell, JR Writer, 40 Cal
Un Kasa, Dipset forever, nigga
Mister Cee signin' off, Duke Da God