Family 1st

[Hook: Masta Ace] All my people 'round the way If I see you on the block, on the corner, in the park, in the summer, I'ma say "Don't go" And let you know that this goes out to y'all All my people in the hood If I see you in the mix on the ave, all the fellas and the chicks I'ma yell "Don't go" And let you know that this goes out to y'all [Verse One: Punchline] Where I'm from it's money over bitches Don't be cool with snitches Cause like the tax man they try to get you for your riches Never burn bridges or exchange digits Keep it real cool but yet still keep your distance Don't fuck with outsiders (Why?) My stay in they mouth cause like a child on punishment, I keep it in house My style, I never run out Get murdered and ridiculed Your fam's mourning you in all black like Hasidic Jews Attitudes arrogant You're scared to speak and Your palms shaking just like a former greeting I'm like time creeping Y'all see me and run Y'all need some heart like John Q's little son I'm number one Y'all back down once my squad came Y'all cats fold like bad hands in a card game We not the same I'm deading your work And y'all niggas can't eat cause my family's first [Hook] [Verse Two: Apocalypse] They had us using bad words in pre-K Seen a lot of things done the wrong way on the ave in BK A young nigga turnt out before the teen years Virgin lung, bust cherry off skunk and green beer After that I seen clear I wrote a song about it In my blood, now my lifeline I can't live without it The people look to me like I'm hope in the flesh What they don't know is what I think about myself is less This is chess not checkers I'm over block politics and running out to fiends, yo I choose to sell records And y'all the type of dudes to rush and drop garbage Me and my associates stay eating regardless Winning in the pros while you losing in the novice The Rookie Of The Year called Apocalypse Far from sweet, I spread cuts through your crew all day Shed blood and no love, that's the Brooklyn way [Hook] [Verse Three: Masta Ace] Yo, if you got a couple of grand, I got a hot sixteen I got a shawty at the crib and she not 16 Understand that I'm over you dudes like umbrellas Ain't nothing you dumb fellas can come tell us We sit at home lounging, collect checks in the mail While we up in the spot, y'all waiting to exhale But keep breathing, cause you still in the preseason I'm knee deep in the game nigga, you keep sleeping And I'ma be wakin' ya up like No Doz You assed out like no clothes when I throw bows And come at my immediate area, I'll bury ya So don't make me take it there like a carrier I know y'all wanna be street, don't let it worry ya First leave them gators alone like Steve Spurrier And take your mind back to the days with no doe Hit the block, keep it thorough Find your people on the ave and yell it out [Hook]