Street Religion (feat. Roc Marciano)

Yeah, yeah

Straight up

Live, sittin' there for my street ****

(Coast to coast)

Stand up, hold your own ****, man

Do what you say and say what you mean, ****

(Hood to hood)

Real shit

Check it

Street religion's what I practice

Cuban link chain, my hat backwards

Accelerate weight, livin' the fastest

Covered in graphics, my shirts look like art pieces

My life story's like a sharp thesis

My heart preaches what my mind knows, sense over emotion

Never see pyramids built without devotion

I seein' fiends suckin' glass like a pleco

The money that we use in this strip club's is play-doh

Friends become foes, foes become alliances

Gold bars get stashed inside appliances

Stayin' free B and a G, I'm like a scientist

Red and green belt on my waist, that's where the iron is

Queens' founded, international market

Dollar signs under my eyelid on my hybrid

Designed with superior strength and personality

This Queens' ****'s 'bout to do it for the galaxy

The calculator's good, my scale is calibrated

I'm still aloof, I got them workin' and salivated

Know a couple Rambos to high-belt Lambos

I ain't really built that, I'm good with my hand froze

Livin' low-key, fuck doin' OT

I'll be throwin' OT till I'm a OG, uh

Wood grains in my gold teeth

Hello, muthafuckas, callin' me the chief

Check it, bloody murder, a young version of Ike Turner

Watch your bird, I might burn her with the curler

Severely hurt her, but the word I can nurture

Long furs, his and hers, in the house of worship

At the funeral, I heard it got turned up

Gangbangers from the rival turf shot the church up

Live by the gun, die by it

Uh, what good is science to a man if he can't apply it?

By many, I was praised, but I'm unfit

Stared death in the eyes, never once flinched

Cock the hammer on the gun, left a thumbprint

Come wit' me , young blood, under covenant

Put the hit on 'em, if he live, pull a mulligan

Chrome .357 with the rubber grip

Sippin' Baileys on the rocks like Puffy

Pie lucky, pop, you cannot touch me

Hunt for treasure, strugglin' to touch cheddar

Fuck **** probably be a bum forever

Was once tight, but in due time, sever

Birds of a feather flock together, Roc

(Know what I'm sayin', man?)

Flight off, ****

Let it flow

That's hell of a seafood spread brother Mai laid out for us too

Uh, "Stay fly till the day I die," that's the slogan

Fly bitch bonin', 5-50 , we the coldest

Ice chokers, cut the pie, ghetto stockbrokers

In '89, had a line for the smokers

Still rock gold like a king, my nuts is hangin' low

Nickel-plated .44 ain't for show

****, leave your thoughts on the sidewalk

For that fly-talk, twist one and slide off