Memory Lane (Sittin' in da Park)

I rap for listeners, blunt heads, fly ladies, and prisoners

Hennessy holders and old school ****, then I be dissin' a

Unofficial that smoke Woolie Thai

I dropped out of Kooley High, gassed up by a cokehead cutie pie

Jungle survivor, fuck who's the liver

My man put the battery in my back, a difference from Energizer

Sentence begins indented with formality

My duration's infinite, money wise or physiology

Poetry, that's a part of me, retardedly bop

I drop the ancient manifested hip-hop straight off the block

I reminisce on park jams, my man was shot for a sheep coat

Choco blunts'll make me see him drop in my weed smoke

It's real, grew up a trife life, the times of white lines

The high pipes, murderous night times and knife fights invite crimes

Chill on the block with Cognac, cold strap

With my peeps that's into drug money, market interact

No sign of the beast in the blue Chrysler, I guess that means peace

For ****, no shiesty vice to just snipe you

Start off the dice-rollin' match, from craps to Cee-lo

With side bets, so roll a deuce, nothin' below (Peace, God)

Peace, God, now the shit is explained

I'm takin' **** on a trip straight through memory lane

It's like that, y'all, it's like that, y'all

Now let me take a trip down memory lane

Comin' outta Queensbridge

Now let me take a trip down memory lane

Comin' outta Queensbridge

Now let me take a trip down memory lane

Comin' outta Queensbridge

Now let me take a trip down memory lane

Comin' outta Queensbridge

One for the money, two for pussy and foreign cars

Three for Alize **** deceased or behind bars

I rap divine God, check the prognosis, is it real, or showbiz?

My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses

Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real

A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja

Here's my basis, my razor embraces many faces

You're telephone blown, black, stitches or fat shoelaces

Peoples are petrol, dramatic automatic .44

I let blow and back down po-po when I'm vexed, so

My pen taps the paper, then my brain's blank

I see dark streets, hustlin' brothers who keep the same rank

Pumping for something, some are prosperous or fail

Judges hangin' ****, uncorrect bails, for direct sales

My intellect prevails from a hangin' cross with nails

I reinforce the frail with lyrics that's real

Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats

I decipher prophecies through a mic and say peace

I hung around the older crews while they sling smack to dingbats

They spoke of Fat Cat, that ****'s name made bell rings, black

Some fiends scream about Supreme team, a Jamaica, Queens thing

Uptown was Alpo, son, heard he was kingpin, yo

Fuck, rap is real, watch the herbs stand still

Never talkin' to snakes 'cause the words of man kill

True in the game, as long as blood is blue in my veins

I pour my Heineken brew to my deceased crew on memory lane

Now let me take a trip down memory lane

Comin' outta Queensbridge

Now let me take a trip down memory lane

Comin' outta Queensbridge

Now let me take a trip down memory lane

Comin' outta Queensbridge

Now let me take a trip down memory lane

Comin' outta Queensbridge

Comin' outta, out-out-outta, out-out-outta Queensbridge

The most dangerous MC is

Comin' outta, out-out-outta, out-out-outta Queensbridge

The most dangerous MC is

Comin' outta, out-out-out-out-outta Queensbridge

The most dangerous MC is

Comin' outta, out-out-out-out-out-outta Queensbridge

The most dangerous MC is

Me number one, and you know where me from