[Scratches]
"N.Y.G."

[Verse One: Rave]
Ayo we cry freedom
Die fighting like G-Men
Hate screaming "Leave 'em"
Spit off ten, get off of him
Lost in a world of talking coffins
Getting older
Still trying to get over
Slide to Dakota
Driving a Rover
Ears glued to Motorola
A feared dude
Sign a few posters, keep trucking
If I should be so lucky, to die old
But a young ho sucking me, that should be lovely
You know, the luxury
Could go straight to the brain like the cocaine but none for me
Shit I be getting numb from trees
Anything else might be wack to god
C-Ray fucking around, smack the god, till I return back to God
Back on the job
'Bout to enlarge a barrage of cold/hot bars
Straight through y'all n***as Matchbox cars
Bet fam' gon' do his job
New York G'z be true in the heart
[?] vice on po-lice grips
Couldn't screw it apart
Plus we nice with fifths
On some Poor Righteous shit
Getting ready to see [?]
Ayo

[Hook: Rave]
It's on son {x7}
I gotta get this money god
It's on son {x4}
I gotta, gotta play it safe tho'
It's on son {x4}
I gotta, I gotta get this money god
It's on son {x4}
I gotta, gotta play it safe tho'
"It's on n***a" - Notorious B.I.G

Pros and cons. What the fuck? It's over

[Verse Two: Panchi]
To me can you explain, are you entertained by my pain
My strife and all the small details of my life?
Reincarnated from incarceration
Breathing again
Hustle better now, less risk is done with a pen
So how you want it? Holler
These jeans is forty dollars, n***a
These ain't Con Art baby, these is Carhartt
An army coat, pair of Timbs I'm street smart
No hiding behind parked cars and tree bark
I'm in the middle of the war making heat spark
NYG'z pa, nothing sweet
I was down with blazing heat on hazing street
Rikkers Island, went through and came home smiling
Bidded with mild n***as while the others was wilding
Warred with Crips/Bloods, Muslims and gods
Got it on with the Latin Kings and [?]
I played the sponge, soaked jewels for real that's important
And keep Saturday Night's Live like Tracey Morgan
Ya odds is like 93,000,000 to 1
Cause you like 93,000,000 miles from son/sun
[Hook]

[Verse Two: Shabeeno]
Ayo it's on son
Year Round, we bout to tear it down
(And the Best Rap Album...{NYG'Z!})
I can hear it now
Drinking 'gnac, laid back, thinking back
I hated Giuliani, what I'd give to get Deakins back
Be writing raps, chasing Henny with scotch
CD on random play, blasting Biggie and 'Pac
Shiggy is hot
Society, they made me fiery
Heard you one sided
I leave you open minded
Brain smoking frying
Laying hopeless dying
Them n***as should've pulled your coat
Sha be toting iron
They say y'all flow futuristic
2020, with my 1988 ways, counting the money
Lounging with honeys
Big truck, dick in they guts
And we don't love these chicks
Do it for kicks in the nut
Yo Sha's nuts, I'm loco, ya goons can't do me
I blossom and bloom and stay in tune like I'm looney
Who we? We New York greatest, word is bond
Study long, study wrong, pro's and cons
It's on
[Hook]