Letras
Yo, Tech, let's make something happen!
New York!
Hass, turn my mic up, hass
It's that time motherfuckers
These niggas don't rhyme like us
Yo, all praises, all burners, all razors
Hands down, nigga, the game is all Jada's
Anything drop, I cop in all flavors
He's a dick, you pussy, y'all neighbors
Hold on, we ain't playin' with-
This is New York (D-Block!)
This what these niggas want, right?
I don't do Instagram, I don't do Twitter
I don't do none of that shit
Let's go, Tech
This what I do, nigga
New York, make some motherfuckin' noise!
Yeah, all praises, all burners, all razors
Hands down, nigga, the game is all Jada's
Something hot drop, he cop in all flavors
He's a dick, you pussy, y'all neighbors
Yeah, two extra whores
I'm in the new Aston with two extra doors
With a quick flip, I don't try to stretch for more
One hundred percent powder, extra raw
And I get it from Giuseppe, either him or the eses
I've been smacking these rappers around for a decade (talk that shit!)
Still tryin' to get mami to sacame la leche
Know if I take her out, I could pop her the next day (whoo!)
The Black Mamba of the vocals, MJ of the Pro Tools, anti-social
Phil Jack on the track, but I can't coach you
This is just audio of shit that I go through
Guns in the couch, money in the mattress
And I would have got the Bentley but I had to pay taxes
Settle for a Polo fit and some Air Maxes
Your flows a light sprain, mines is a fracture
Yeah, and the X-rays negative
Youse a coward, in jail you could never live
Yeah, you barely living out here
It's like I'm giving-, you barely giving out air
I'm the reason you breathing, it's like I'm giving out air
I got stocks in the block and I'm giving out shares
I don't know you, you ain't familiar
I don't care who shot you, 'cause they ain't kill ya