[Intro: Lansky Jones]
I find myself walking to work
And I can see the sunrise, right over Queens Boulevard
And I say to myself...
Why hasn't Queens gotten a trophy in a very long time?
I mean, I feel like we deserve to shine right now
Don't we? we gotta beautiful, beautiful, beautiful team
And I can see us parading down Roosevelt avenue right now...

[Verse 1: T.Shirt]
Put me on as a sub-, gettin' the glove
Love in my soul, Queens in my blood
Whoever thought I'd get paid for being a thug
Pretty much, beatin' 'em up
First time I got my dick sucked was down at the Rocks
Down the street from my crib, couple of blocs
Dawg I had spots, built like a trap star
Fuck it, I made a story and parked my backyard
Came from nothin' said I was gon' be something
First thing you need to know is millionaires ain't frontin'
Talking that hard work, n***as ain't bluffin'
Road to riches, all go through the same tunnel
Trouble looking for me down 21st
I'm in a brown Novaa with yellow stripes on mellow nights
Blowing L's, blowing past yellow lights
Me and my dawgs is tight, it's just the life
[Hook]
We like the '86 New York Mets
Blunts and drugs in effect
We passin' bottles in the middle of sex
Gotta get it together, 'fore I'm bitin' the dust
Bury me with fronts, all together we rust

[Verse 2: Roc Marciano]
Late at night, we play the slice
After the 'caine heist, and hopped in something nice
We freezing like the inside of headlight
Spit it right, sip the Red Stripe, send your life right to christ
We fire at the hour, ice lyrically, I'm a highlight
The son god-like, follow the guidelines
The men are kind of concubine, play the sideline
Later retire at the high rise, Versace Rose
My body closed, rappers copy the flows
The cockiest with the hoes, Koro saki and rolls
We shower posse's cold, and find your body with holes
While I be fucking with some Hollywood hoes
Swallow me whole, John Kani clothes
We on the coast, n***as is at the bottom like toads
I'm supposed to watch the fly stones and get the dimes home
And the S55- drive slow

[Hook] 2x
[Verse 3: Lansky Jones]
Lansk- and Marciano, we are the Fonzarelli
I eat at Hollis Deli, bag a bitch in Howard Beach
Her body talkin', hopefully this chick wanna eat
I gave her me she always open like a Georgia peach
Quarter way to I need an order at the Satyr
This Queens next chapter, we celebrate with vodka
And some big time crackers, Matzah, my speech is street
I never talk no dirt amongst the Castas, I brush my teeth
Anywhere we find the paper like an Alfie Kohn
Dawg, I'm after cash like I'm rosen
Colt .45, till I die and liquor in my liver
While you still full of shit like kitty litter
So what's better? all I do is crack these yolks
They lookin' at me like the unknown comic on celebrity roasts
Couldn't give a fuck, I was meant to go off
Y'all like unleavened bread, you was meant to be soft