Give Up the Goods (Just Step) (feat. Big Noyd)

Word up? You know what I'm saying

So I been telling this niggas mayne

Shit ain't a game mayne

Let the niggas know mayne

You know what I'm saying

Shit definitely real

Yeah

Aiyo, Queens get the money, long time no cash

I'm caught up in the hustle when the guns go blast

The fool retaliated so I had to think fast

Pull out my heat first, he pull out his heat last

Now, who the fuck you think is living to this day?

I'm tryna tell these young niggas crime don't pay

They looked at me and said, "Queens niggas don't play

Do your thing, I'll do mine, kid, stay outta my way"

It's type hard tryna survive in New York state

But can't stop 'til I'm eating off a platinum plate

Po-po comes around and tries to relocate me

Lock me up forever, but they can't deflate me

'Cause having cash is highly addictive

Especially when you're used to have no money to live with

I pause, step back, look at my life as a whole

Ain't no love, it seems the devil done stole my soul

I'm out for delfia, selfia, P's not helping ya

I'm tryna get this Lexus up, plus a cellular

Yo, Big Noyd! (What up, cousin?) I can't cope

With all these crab niggas tryna shorten my rope

Yo, it's the R-A-double-P-E-R N-O-Y-D

Niggas can't fuck with me!

Coming straight outta QB, pushing the Infiniti

You ask can I rip it constantly? Mentally?

Definitely, to the death of me, come and test me

Trust me, nigga can't touch me if he snuffed me

So bust me, you're gonna have to, 'cause I'ma blast you

My lyrical like a miracle, ill spiritual

I'm born with it, I'm getting on with it

And I'ma have it 'til I'm fucking dead and gone with it

'Cause I'm a what? Composer of hardcore, a lyrical destructor

Don't make me buck ya, 'cause I'm a wild motherfucker

You know I flow, you know my steelo

Even pack my gat when I go to see my P.O

Jump out my hooptie, pass my gat and my lucci

To my shorty, in case my P.O. try to troop me

To the Island, and if I start wilding

Flipping on niggas walking around with the nice gold medallions

But she didn't violate me, so I escaped, see

Back to Queens, pumping the fiends, making more cream

Know what I mean? I'm a natural-born hustler

Won't try to cut ya, pull out my .44 and bust ya

Yo, ain't no time for faking jacks

'Cause brothers that fake jacks get laid on their backs

The streets is real, can't roll without steel

I feel how I feel 'cause I was born to kill

Do what I gotta to eat a decent meal, brothers is starving

Don't try to find a job, son, it's all about robbing

So don't be alarmed when we come through

We supposed to, if you opposed to, get your face blown, dude

Off the map, 'cause I react, attack

A brother wasn't blessed with wealth, so I act like that

Drug dealing, only mess with shorties that's appealing

I'm fronting on the world once I start 4-wheeling

'Cause back on the 41st Side, we do it right

Sipping E&J, getting bent all night

Yo, who that? I never seen him in my whole life

Step to his business 'cause it's only right

Po-po ain't around so I grab my pound

Money retaliated, so I hit the ground

My life is on the line, gotta hold my projects down

Can't see myself getting bodied by a clown

Ass nigga that ain't even from my town

Hit him up in the chest, now he's laying man down

Jetted up from under the benches, I started hearing sirens

I stopped firing, to cut ass like a diamond

Jetted to the crib piece, what a relief

Stashed the heat then proceeded to peep

Out the window, call my son, "Yo, son, we got beef"

But no question, money had a problem, so I solved him

I got my mind on a stick-up, now it's time to get paid

Thinking of ways to take loot already made

There's crime in the air, ain't no time to be afraid

Give me yours or get laid

Give up the goods or get sprayed

I got lots of love, for my crew that is

No love for them other crews and rival kids

All them out-of-town niggas know what time it is

And if they don't, they need to buy a watch, word up

Caught up in the crossfire, get theyself hurt up

While I be sipping gin straight in a plastic cup

On a park bench on 12th Street, my whole crew's famous

You tried to bust your gat and keep it real, but you nameless

First of all, slow down, you on the wrong route

Let me put you on your feet and show you what's it all about

The street life ain't nothing to play with, no jokes, no games, kid

For years, I been doing the same shit

Just, drinking liquor, doing bids

Extorting crack heads, and sticking up the stick-up kids