Walkie Talkies

[Produced by Thelonious Martin] [Verse 1: Curren$y] Uh, colder than the airport Music hustling, ducking the rap task force Man, I'm just tryna cop my man's a Porsche Writing these drugs until my hand get sore Maneuvering, Cuban links, 24 karats Who did you think was coming to dinner, it wasn't apparent? Your nigga Spitta, smellin' like a pound of that killa Open the window, these suckers lungs too tender Homes I been in it, for more than a minute Fathering styles, lot of the niggas is just my littles I'mma stop, with one button stuntin' dissolve the top Open air, in something rare [Verse 2: Young Roddy] Them niggas got blood stains all on the dollar bill But they don't care, they rinse it off 'til ain't nothin' there Had to keep my kicks clean, may not get another pair Shit hard, where the fuck I'm coming from they play it raw My God, I'm tired; I've been running from the law Even runnin' up the cars, they want me dead behind bars, no sir Momma got another gig, moved on her own turf Only fist fights around that time, nobody got murked Until they started playin' with bangers Nobody got caught until they started pointing fingers Sinking, ain't that a bitch I stay fatigued down on some battle shit I never tell, I ain't on no Donnie Brasco shit I'm on Sosa, this life made me a soldier I'm no Tony, I never turn on my homie, boy This ain't no country for the wack and the phony boy This shit could get wicked in this New Jet City nigga