Radio London

[Verse 1: The Cool Quest] Niggas be funny Pussy and money Only language we cling to Only things that we bring up New York back homeboy what you thinking? Don't get it twisted with my lyrical specifics Or the words that I utter while you mutter to be the truest About some bullshit, real I produce, prolific This shit homie, you're a tourist, I live this Rebel niggas, ubiquitous while they stay frivolous All over the city with this do shows in gritty locations Silly bitches wanna know my location No bueno, real rap raw, fuck the radio Niggas always turn their heads whichever way we go Chill in houses, smell like alcohol and weed smoke Clouds my vision, but that's all that we do But there's more to life than that But fuck it man, these basic niggas won't understand [Verse 2: The Cool Quest] Mad niggas want what they can't get And that is respect within this rap shit Mad spits I'm crafting, one uppers to my last hits Blastin' Illmatic, blowin' down loud with madness I'm not braggin', that's just how I maintain My clever mind, forever finds mega rhymes flames Like the fire that comes out of my Bob Marley lighter In my boy Ray's crib, Hungry Ham down in Harlem Bronx is what I'm reppin', no such shit as half steppin' Front on me homie and you best to start preppin' to dip Verbal clips send torpedos through your verses And render everything you ever wrote down worthless Nervous? I don't know what you heard kid But I know you not to mess with me, intervene where I'm goin' We on the come up, run up in your mama's crib Run a 7 train, 11 niggas, odd figure