Songtexte NY Minute - Stack Bundles , Jim Jones

You know, it's Jones, we only speak that way, man
What's up, man?
We only gon' tell you what the fuck goes on in our city
The shit that we gotta go through to live this life of
Being rock stars, motherfucker
Represent this God's place, you dig?

Shit, so now I'm walking through the tombs
Seven hours passed, but I'm out so soon
Damn, it's something about full moons
Make me cop cars, peel them out like prunes
Seen pops leaning on the couch with the spoons
Meanwhile, I was out and about with the goons
Tearing up the city, styling out in saloons
Whips a buck sixty, price higher than the moon

Motherfuck falling back, my niggas gon' try trouble
With the goonies, motherfucker, invading your triborough
Thought you had something with your candy cane gang
I'll bang the ratchet, nigga, till my finger feels sprained
All this snitching going on, niggas fucking up the game
Cop a lot of Maserati, be walking in the lane
As for me, comrade, I'm still cooking up the 'caine
On the first of the month, nigga, drop and make it rain, motherfucker

Nigga, the dirt had my hands all in it
Everybody around me guilty, the fam all in it
The Pyrex got them grams all in it
All them O's gotta come back, my plan's all in it
The next flip will get a nigga out of housing
The one after that will have me duPont browsing
Gorgeous gangster, they don't wanna see me styling
Getting facial when the blicka blocka pound me

Yeah, I tell a bitch to come and get me, I'm still on the block
Don't give a fuck about federales, I peel on the cop
And get away in the mist, probably getting lip
From a bitch in the passenger seat, nigga, I'm the shit
You ain't never seen a nigga no speeder than the boy
Smack the cheddar out of your hand and eat it off the floor
I be heated to the core, leaving off the tour
Mi amor, three and four, baby, is she a whore?

I pop shit by the dozen (I back it up, though)
Cop Cris' by the buckets (Get twisted)
I hit the dealer, cop whips out the luggage
Twin hard top drops, always switching the colors
Cops wishing to cuff us
'Cause we show our ass off so the bitches'll fuck us
And all my niggas is thugging
Getting drunk on the strip or I'm pimping in public

I'm giving it up, I'm giving a fuck
Got the blicka off my waist, now my shit ain't tucked, nigga
I give a fuck about the pigs
Give one, take one, I bleed for my nigs
That's just the way I was brought up
And talking all brazy, homie, get your clique caught up
We gang banging, no gimmicks
I'll give it to your ass in a New York minute

I was rocking eight balls, y'all was copping eight balls
Came up too fast, sorry, I can't relate y'all
Try and wean out the hate y'all
But I hate y'all shit with a passion
Whips, cop them and crash them
Can't even imagine how aggy
Hands sticky from burning tips on the baggies
No license, I'm known to try and bag me
Feeling like a Simpson, the Jag sitting on Maggie

Nigga, the snitching is getting ugly
They wonder how I do it, I tell them
I only listen to niggas getting money
Empty a clip at your tummy, I know what you ate
I was digging out your accountant, I know what you can't
Under 30 and hood rich, my own crib, mami
She cook and she clean, smack and stay home, she a good bitch
You rap niggas so sweet, so tender
I could beat you in my sleep, no retreat, no surrender

And you can catch this native New Yorker
Tearing down highways, 80 in a Porsche
I mean I'm flying like a UFO saucer
They sure to take my license if the troopers would've caught you

Now I'm dipping down side blocks
Gotta get low 'cause I gotta stash five shots
I see a space and I'm on it
I gotta get low, motherfucker, for always

The dice game's like Vegas, still trying my luck
When it comes to pulling cards, you better watch who you pluck
Gracos with the lasers, when I fire, you duck
Gotta give you a set of wings so you can fly like us

Niggas are kidnapping kids out of the school
Ma, take her marijuana and good perico is all I move
You don't want it with the blues, nigga, we quick to draw
Byrd Gang, they ain't think they predicted the call, holla