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Embodies portions from, "Gimme the Loot" by The Notorious B.I.G. (1994/ Bad Boy Records).
"Knuckleheadz" by Raekwon featuring Ghostface Killah and U-God (1995/ Loud Records).
lyrics
( Intro )
So now I'm up in the airport trying to hop the plane
Gettin' stopped by security teams
Escape to Amsterdam, they stoppin' my mission, slow up
I guess I'll have to start from the beginning, hold up
( Verse One )
Up in parts near Western, lived an O-G, his name Kevin
We used to flip tools, a few Smith and Wesson's
Knew him through some mutual dudes since 9-11
Like a big brother, taught me how to shop for fine leather
And I used to shoot him lessons, he blew notes like Tevin
Used to pull up in a tinted out black Mark-VII
Would rock a couple jewels, but was grown man with it
Wore labels I couldn't pronounce, pinky rings fitted
His baby-mom's, this bad chick, lived out in Venice
Used to model, now she trying to break in the music business
When it came down to trees, he knew just where to get it
Cats with two acres of it, now that's some spinach
Rock different cars, would ask, how you cop that whip
He say son, you know we crime, we don't pay for shit
The other night, slip me the plan while we was passing the fifth
Said he gotta heist this month, going down on the tenth
Is you down with it, say man, you know I'm Don
I back robberies, don't have to smack clowns for their bricks
Now you asking throw the uniform on and go in
Like MJ at forty-ish, on some Washington Wizard shit
Man you know how it is, got the wife and the kid
My little man in high school, can't be fuckin' with bids
(Alright, Alright)
Hit me with logistics in the morning, say ten
Damn, just when I was out, shit they pull me back in
( Break )
( Verse Two )
At his house, 9:50, what you're now hearing is all history
Mansion, Lamborghini, the Bentley
Three SUV's, generator supply the energy
Bank account silly, the fruits of a crime industry
Enter through the pool, hallway right through the pantry
Walk through the kitchen, everything is like classy
Escorted by the maid, she usually off on Saturday
Right up to my man, meeting room with a balcony
He cussing on his cell, with one finger up, wait
Talking in Russian, every so often, got a set them straight
Taking shorts in our business, see it's not a debate
And those caught scheming, their bodies found floating in lakes
So he hangs up, and we begin to conversate
Said he got a inside man at the federal bank
Like that Spike Lee joint with Denzel, rockin' the mustache
From back in the days, to big for his face
So what you need from me, kid you know how we do
You can run the crew, I break more bread with you
Just keep it 'tween us, them other fools out the loop
Everybody got a alias, yours Mr. Blue
Them other four dudes, they're cool, they know the rules
It's a five man job, everybody needs a tool
Do it straight, we'll split enough cake to vacate on the moon
Had plans of getting out I thought, this can be the move
( Break )
( Verse Three )
We at a federal reserve, say word, what you thought
This was that Bonnie and Clyde shit, that ride or die shit
(Nah)
We on that Deniro and Tom Sizemore shit
So much heat, we on a clock from the door bitch
Cats suited up like "Reservoir Dogs", I'm whispering
Turn off the cell, draw no attention at all
When I drop the signal, smash the guard, like
When I'm droppin' this single next year, put it on blast from the start
(Go in...)
The kid smack him, licked a shot, the crowd panicking
Like the "Star Wars" movie, the villain back again
One guard got gully, pressed the alarm
Reached for his holster, hit my man in his dressed Sean John
I splat his brain right on top of his shoulders, hope he talked to
Jehovah, looking like some Play-Doh when it's over
We hit the door fast, no time for shoot out war
But we'll retaliate, that's what these semi-auto's is for
Everybody jettin', me and Mr. Pink, tryin' to catch a ride with this freak
She all frantic, pull a baby nine from under the seat
Caught him right in his cheek, I ain't pause
Put two in her face before she could blink
Then I grabbed my man, all bloody, trying to stop the leak
Tussled to get him in the backseat, this dude's heavy
He's mumbling, just drop me off at Saint Mary
Then he went stiff, and passed, I ditched the car and scurried
So now I'm up in the airport, trying to hop the plane
Getting stopped by security teams
Escape to Amsterdam, they stoppin' my mission
Got my picture for the robbery, I'm guessing I'm finished
(Damn)
credits
from Gray Matter,
released November 11, 2019
( E. Gardner, H.E. Pritchard Jr. )
Produced by Ern-Money for Ern-Money Productions and U.M.A.R.C. Management.
Written and performed by Howard Bronzson.
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