Jim Jones "Intro (Harlem's Own) (feat. Max B)" |
(Best rapper alive!) Dame Dash: My nigga Jim Jones What's really good, Jimmy Boy Ya know I'm always proud of you I think you represent Harlem to the fullest You know what i find amusing? How much niggaz really wanna, be like a Harlem nigga How niggaz run around calling themselves American Gangstas Well first and foremost A real bonafide official Harlem nigga, would never betray his friends That includes, snitchin', fuckin' a nigga wife I mean, ya know, ya man Shortin' a nigga on some work Lookin' out for a nigga when he's doin' a bid A Harlem nigga just basically A real Harlem that is, is basically thorough Verse 1 Jim Jones: Consumed with the hunger, that soon turn guilt And it was Judas' amongst us, that proved that they got killed We got the power of the streets, coppin' pies with the yeast Them tasty, pastries, coppin' rides off the streets A hustler's education, screamin' fuck the legislation I way got no license but, truck got registration You can smell it in the air, if you in the belly, say a prayer With white, now they circle through the blocks where they dealt all those squares They cooked it different and, they pushed it different and The talk was wavy and, the look is different The alpha and omega, the arm, legga legga Lou Vuitton, the Gucci on, charms over the sweater Guns under the leather, no top in the good weather Tear up 7th in the Carrera, whatever None can do it better, whoever, I said it And I bet I won't regret it cocksuckas Hook Max B: I can tell you to shoot them niggaz heads I'm gon' slide on my ski mask, I'ma shoot at niggaz cribs Know the Capo think he feds, I know who that nigga is Who that is? An American Gangsta (gangsta) Ayyyy Ayyyy Ay 'Bout to take that shit back right Just spent a buck on a brand-new chain And I'm 'bout to make that shit back twice Pyrex pot, 'bout to cook that 'caine And I'm 'bout to make thta shit back nice I'm an American Gangsta (gangsta) Ayyyy Ayyyy Ay Verse 2 Jim Jones: Fancy cars and them fly bitches Hoop dreams, drug dealer wishes, you know the business We took abandon buildings, turned 'em into gold mines Three pumpers, two look-outs for the po-nines In front of buildings, jewelry on like it's showtime And I can make a million off a coke dime We cook that yay and put that base on the street And then we broke it down, got 60K off a key And the dubs was so juicy, I had 'em off the movie I believe out I could fly coming out my Couptey And no credit, we only had cash We copped the cars, whole, and showed 'em off on the ave From that brown paper bag, to that new paper tag Around July we did the pretty linen 4-5's with the pretty women It ain't a ride that ya kid ain't get in We push the work out like Richard Simmons Hook Max B: I can tell you to shoot them niggaz heads I'm gon' slide on my ski mask, I'ma shoot at niggaz cribs Know the Capo think he feds, I know who that nigga is Who that is? An American Gangsta (gangsta) Ayyyy Ayyyy Ay 'Bout to take that shit back right Just spent a buck on a brand-new chain And I'm 'bout to make that shit back twice Pyrex pot, 'bout to cook that 'caine And I'ma make that shit back nice I'm an American Gangsta (gangsta) Ayyyy Ayyyy Ay Dame Dash: I mean, I'm speakin' for old school Harlem I mean, the Harlem I know I came up in the late 80's, early 90's And I heard the 70's was crazy There's a couple niggaz I heard was doin' it, officially I mean, some niggaz pretended thta they was American Gangstas They got that paper, they did have that swagger Bought the cars Had them bitches, but at the end of the day They snitched, they told on their friends So that means every fly thing they did is erased And I really hope niggaz understand that There ain't no excuses, betraying your friends Snitchin' Lyric from www.lyricmania.com |