Queens
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Lyrics for Queens by Pharoahe Monch
Songwriters: Jamerson, T; David, Hod; Menard, Maxwell Gerald
Son got hops, never knew he woulda grew it
Uh, come on uh, come on, uh uh
On the corner of Linden and Guy R. Brewer"
You're killin' my high, plus I got a nine
In what we talkin' 'bout Queens, Queens
In Southside, Queens, Queens where if you say the ave
Walked out of the crib-piece, pissed with no taste
I know the devil lurks outside, man it's cold
Cool nigga, when it came to school he blew it
He said, "Why, why?"
And with his last breath this is what he said
You don't have to do the math in Southside Queens, Queens
Thinkin', this time, next year, mom'll be able to, oh
Eyes flutterin' up and down in his head
Fuck hoops gotta impress the chicks now
I knew this nigga named Donovan
Get paid off the streets, to make ends meet
There's a place I know where the bitches go
Let me speak about the way he used to dribble off his knees
There's a place I know where the people go
And if you got a glock, you could bust shots
Youngest of three sons, fuckin' with coupons and refunds
His momma said, "Donovan why are you
People automatically know the path
Where you can cash dough and chill on the low
Like [unverified], when the block be hot
Then I closed his eyes
Well, get the metal out, too late, the guns flash
But I don't wanna get paid slow, and grow old
With a smile on his face, the picture of pride
You don't have to do the math in Southside Queens, Queens
Slapboxin' with a dyke on a bike too small
(Word?)
I know where people go
That night, rockin' Nikes, eatin' Mike'n'Ikes
Like poppa plus I'm on parole I gotta
All I be doin' is puttin' in work
Get taller and yo Donovan hey come around the block
With the back of her hand, she smacked him in the face
Kneelin' over Donovan's body before he died
People automatically know the path
Astonishin' the way he used to handle the pill God
So you can get a brand new dress for church”
Sun dashed with the quickness, back into the ride
In the melee they wet him like Reggae Sun splash
Scoop, shot, tipped up the backboard, oops
A scholar in acute niggarisms and metropolitans
Like a puzzle or a riddle, discoverin' his path to the hoop
Where they rob you for your dough and shit on the low
And in the middle at the same time guzzlin' a beer
Shit from across the streets, niggaz approach slow
Blood comin' from his mouth, now I'm at his side
In Southside Queens, Queens, where if you say the ave
food stamps, and still he was a champ
Time to get loot for boots and kicks now
He said, "Momma listen close I'ma tell you one time

> Song: Queens
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