Warning: session_start(): open(/var/lib/php/sessions/sess_6qqsfrhfgj1031tm19ah2e4u91, O_RDWR) failed: No space left on device (28) in /var/www/html/lyricsreg.com/reg.php on line 2

Warning: session_start(): Failed to read session data: files (path: /var/lib/php/sessions) in /var/www/html/lyricsreg.com/reg.php on line 2
NAS : A QUEENS STORY lyrics

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

NAS lyrics : "A QUEENS STORY"

[Verse 1]
Rest in peace to Black Just
Riding through Jamaica, Queens in his black truck

Timbs was 40 below, waves to the side of his dome
Definition of good n*gga, yo
Gangsters don't die, n*ggas only become immortal

Angels don't only fly, they walk right before you
In front of you, it's foul what this money could do
Cash corrupts the loyal

I hung with E-Money, too, the f*cking truth
F*cking with Stretch from Live Squad
I could've died the same night that Stretch died

I just got out of his ride
He dropped me off and drove to Springfield
November thirtieth, another Queens king killed

It f*cked me up, y'all
I was just trying to make it with Steve Stoute
The legal way, drug-free route

Back in the days, they was sleeping on us
Brooklyn keep on taking it, Manhattan keep on making it
Trying to leave Queens out

But we was pulling them beams out, them M3's out
Pumping bringing them D's out
Rastas selling chocolate weed inside of a weed house

Colosseum downstairs, gold teeth mouth
Astoria warriors, 8th Street, twin buildings
Vernon, can't even count the Livingston children

Justice in Ravenswood, nice neighborhood
Caught sleeping out there, be a wrap, though
Bridge n*ggas be up in Petey's ten racks, yo

A simple bet on a serious cash flow
Get money, Manolo, welcome home, Castro
Queens-bridge unified all I ask for

Let's do it for D.U, say what up to Snatch, yo
I just salute real n*ggas when I pass through


[Verse 2]
N*ggas is very hungry for that bank robbery
Bury money, trying to get to a Benz from a Hyundai

The Queens Courthouse right next to the cemetery
N*ggas' rap sheets look like obituaries
You be starving in Kew Gardens

Bolognas and milk from a small carton
You could still feel chills from the team
On 118, my n*gga Ben fly by like it's a dream

His face on his Shirt Kings
Laced in a pinky ring, in his black Benz murking
Back when Black Rock & Ron was on the map

Cheeba in yellow sacks, dope sold in laundromats
Thugs bark, getting amped from weed
Over the heart of champions, see

Ever since back then, a n*gga been about the dough

(You all know how the story go) [x3]


[Verse 3]
Any other real n*ggas in the world besides us, I ask?

Probably is, but odds are we'll never cross paths
Put your glass high if you made it out the stash spot
And here to tell a story and celebrate the glory

Drinks in the air for my n*ggas not here
This how we do, I see you D.U
Queens to the heavens, salute the hood legends

Crack the Patron, Hennessy, and Glenlivets
Champagne bottles drowning out the sorrows
Hope the memories'll get us through tomorrow

I'm a real O.G cause back in nine-three
N*ggas couldn't f*ck with me, sipping 'gnac since I was little
Laid back in a rental

Mouth shining, Eddie's gold caps all up in the dental
N*gga getting money now, but you know I'm still mental, but not simple
Put your glass high if you made it out the stash spot

And here to tell your story and celebrate the glory
Drinks in the air for my n*ggas not here
This for the fallen soldiers

Hold it down, I told ya
Pop another bottle and keep the smoke rolling

[Verse 4]
Watch the con realest channel his mom's spirit

Goosebumps cover me, mother's here, I could feel her
Blood of Christ covers me, our savior and healer
Drug prices up or down, I know a few dealers
And some accident murderers, they act like they killed on purpose
Liars brag they put work in

You ain't mean to murk him, your gun's a virgin
Better stay on point, if not, it's curtains
Bebo Posse reincarnated through me, probably
If music money didn't stop me
I never claimed to be the toughest

Though I'm to blame for a few faces reconstructed
It's the game that we was stuck with
Now I'm the only black in the club with rich Yuppie kids
Sad thing, this is the top, but where the hustlers went?
No familiar faces around, ain't gotta grab the musket

It's all safe and sound, champagne by the bucket
Where them n*ggas I shouted out on my first sh*t?
Bo cooking blow, f*cking slay that, where Turkey went?
Old videos show n*ggas that was murdered since
Another reason to get further bent
Put your glass high if you made it out the stash spot

And here to tell your story and celebrate the glory
Drinks in the air for my n*ggas not here
This for the fallen soldiers
Hold it down, I told ya
Pop another bottle and keep the smoke rolling

Submit Corrections