Saturday Nite

Saturday night, Uptown Riding past Kansas Fried Chicken What's popping kid, we in the mix It's chilly 40 below Gate's closed gotta catch Dr. J's Blowing my hand, rub on my nose Tap the glass, stop fronting Duke, fresh pair of jeans Look I got loot, eleven in the beige boots Heard a screech pull up, these Jakes flashed me five pictures One had my man's mug, Semi stepped brother hugs You asked the wrong guy son I'm from Atlanta, yeah we know Mr. Coles Flew in two days ago to see his fam' But we been watching you, crazily The whole Staten Island shitting on you Wisdom Bird's pregnant out in Baisley Holding snow in your ear, fresh baldie tried to change up Not truck today, still looking fly, still slammed up hung You mind popping your trunk, slow your pace Starks fixed your face, copped out the six, five years probation You dealing with a lot of science, motherfucker we're watching you Make me wanna lick shots at you You disgust me, screwing me down, grab my gun Go head bust me Heard you hate Jake that's what it must be Hands behind your back, spread your legs Just found a roach in your tray It's not mine fucker, what I said You met the 13th nigga A multimillion dollar operation is based upon it yo Where the hell's the RZA He's selling mics, wildest joints Special made to go up in your hand and which went out on point Switched to the next scene, I'm at the crib bugging out On how po' live, hating plus harassing the kid Park the truck in the double face garage Dial 1-900-Raekwon, tell the God shit's mega Reel flashing me on BET, Planet Groove, Rap City News NAACP committees {​*abruptly ends*}​