Wu Block, Jadakiss, Raekwon - Crack Spot Stories lyrics
[Wu Block, Jadakiss, Raekwon - Crack Spot Stories lyrics]
Yeah, yeah
(what up, what up, what up) What is it
Nigga? Let me get a sip of that
(It's that dark right here
You don't want none
Of this, light that) That's that super black
Nigga
(What's good, though, fam?) Ayo, turn that
Tv up (Come on, man, you right there)
Martin is on, right now, Martin on
(You got the remote) We need
New batteries for that remote, though
(Ah man) yeah (Ayo, talk to them, Starks)
Henny bottles everywhere, smelling like 'yac
Bagging crack, sitting in the kitchen
Wearing my mask
Robe on, tailored made in Italy
New Gucci denim
One slipper on, Brookstone, cushion
In the barn, number seven, hugging
My neck, yo, Kiss, yo, rae
Tell that yellow bitch I got next
She fucking with robbers, don't wanna hear
Her pussy sore like Tasha's
This is Starkers crumbs hitting the floor
Fiends clicking they bic lighters
With Garfield eyeballs
Pulling them all-nighters
Give me fifty push ups
Give ya'll a little piece
Faggots did a dime, niggas too weak
For fun, shove a Suzy Q in they face
Let 'em smoke a rock with cake
On they head in the gate (That's foul, Tone)
He might die with a stem on him
Who give a fuck, I'm Larenz Tate on 'em
Crack spot stories, he put a kilo in the pan
I pulled out to break his hand
Until it came back tan
He dancing around the stove
Starks chilling in his robe
My hard knock life
I could of wrote that for Hov'
Shorty, give me a ginger
Ale and dutch masters matter fact
Hand me the phone I'm bout to order Casper's
Fiends at the door
I'm too lazy to let 'em in
Turkey sandwich, barbecue chips, ESPN
Sitting on the couch
I'm just trynna do the math
She got ten polo shirts
All she asking for is half
Today was a good day, no one got shot
No police or none of that, that's
How it is in our spot, yeah
Pyrex boys fronting in Rolls Royce's
I'm on the iPhone, leg back
Examining choices
Two types of coke, we in the bathroom, voting
We like 'take it', helicopter
Waiting, we boating, yo
Gangstas to the death of it
Humbling villains
A good hand chemist in twenty minutes
Cake up and finish
This for the hallways, the long
Days, me and my whore, bagging up
Shorty more razors and bring
Out the four aces
Sit back, laughing with a stack and a clapper
She spray up everything, we paying Pataki
Drug house with no work there, the
Worst fear is never the thirst, yea
But set up from the first
To the thirty first, disperse, yeah
Beef, what, bring me a burger, ya
The flame broilers jump out
One to your first beer
So take that, over there
Everything, everything
Just stay out of max clear
We got the trays up in 6E
That's usually where the God be
Me, Kay and J-Bop, Cali J, and Rod Lee
Bread clocking, all night, the heads knocking
No feds, just Kevin Tighe or west watching
Bagging up at the table, while we chit chat
Past the Phillie
Wash your hands 'fore you hit that
Young niggas getting it, everybody G'd up
Other niggas only made sales when we re up
Motorola flip, burn out and a beeper
White Katie and Rhonda, Stacey and Shaniqua
Yeah, cocaine, weed and forties
That's when I was a shorty
Crack spot stories to Allah be the glory
(what up, what up, what up) What is it
Nigga? Let me get a sip of that
(It's that dark right here
You don't want none
Of this, light that) That's that super black
Nigga
(What's good, though, fam?) Ayo, turn that
Tv up (Come on, man, you right there)
Martin is on, right now, Martin on
(You got the remote) We need
New batteries for that remote, though
(Ah man) yeah (Ayo, talk to them, Starks)
Henny bottles everywhere, smelling like 'yac
Bagging crack, sitting in the kitchen
Wearing my mask
Robe on, tailored made in Italy
New Gucci denim
One slipper on, Brookstone, cushion
In the barn, number seven, hugging
My neck, yo, Kiss, yo, rae
Tell that yellow bitch I got next
She fucking with robbers, don't wanna hear
Her pussy sore like Tasha's
This is Starkers crumbs hitting the floor
Fiends clicking they bic lighters
With Garfield eyeballs
Pulling them all-nighters
Give me fifty push ups
Give ya'll a little piece
Faggots did a dime, niggas too weak
For fun, shove a Suzy Q in they face
Let 'em smoke a rock with cake
On they head in the gate (That's foul, Tone)
He might die with a stem on him
Who give a fuck, I'm Larenz Tate on 'em
Crack spot stories, he put a kilo in the pan
I pulled out to break his hand
Until it came back tan
He dancing around the stove
Starks chilling in his robe
My hard knock life
I could of wrote that for Hov'
Shorty, give me a ginger
Ale and dutch masters matter fact
Hand me the phone I'm bout to order Casper's
Fiends at the door
I'm too lazy to let 'em in
Turkey sandwich, barbecue chips, ESPN
Sitting on the couch
I'm just trynna do the math
She got ten polo shirts
All she asking for is half
Today was a good day, no one got shot
No police or none of that, that's
How it is in our spot, yeah
Pyrex boys fronting in Rolls Royce's
I'm on the iPhone, leg back
Examining choices
Two types of coke, we in the bathroom, voting
We like 'take it', helicopter
Waiting, we boating, yo
Gangstas to the death of it
Humbling villains
A good hand chemist in twenty minutes
Cake up and finish
This for the hallways, the long
Days, me and my whore, bagging up
Shorty more razors and bring
Out the four aces
Sit back, laughing with a stack and a clapper
She spray up everything, we paying Pataki
Drug house with no work there, the
Worst fear is never the thirst, yea
But set up from the first
To the thirty first, disperse, yeah
Beef, what, bring me a burger, ya
The flame broilers jump out
One to your first beer
So take that, over there
Everything, everything
Just stay out of max clear
We got the trays up in 6E
That's usually where the God be
Me, Kay and J-Bop, Cali J, and Rod Lee
Bread clocking, all night, the heads knocking
No feds, just Kevin Tighe or west watching
Bagging up at the table, while we chit chat
Past the Phillie
Wash your hands 'fore you hit that
Young niggas getting it, everybody G'd up
Other niggas only made sales when we re up
Motorola flip, burn out and a beeper
White Katie and Rhonda, Stacey and Shaniqua
Yeah, cocaine, weed and forties
That's when I was a shorty
Crack spot stories to Allah be the glory