(feat. Denise Weeks)

Pardon the Syzzrup...

[Jim Jones]
Now we try corners
Old folks try and warn us
The cops try and swarm us
Blocks hot like saunas
Well fuck it I'ma risk it
Got a bunt nigga twist it
Imma get drunk with my biscuit
5 cent cup, take a sip kid
Imma product of the p-jects
My teachers always told me that I'd prolly be a reject
I came up by my lonely now I'm a product of that D-Set
Two twelvin with my homie, he caught a homy of that d-wreck
He said it had him zonin' left the body in bulding three steps
The project now on fire every where you see the detects
His high is coming down cause now he's nervous smokin bogeys
And now he findin out that fuckin murder was his co-D
And this the shit that happens all too often up in Harlem
No shit you smell a rat you better off him whats the problem
In this business sellin crack we cook that raw shit up to hard shit
And tell my fellas that and to my coffin steady mobbin' to my coffin
steady mobbin'