A+Z (feat. AZ) Letra

Yeah yeah Word up (Yeah son) Yeah yo how this goin down nine-six How we livin son (exoticness) Nine-six exoticness (representin?) Know what I mean? (A+) A+ (yo how we livin?) This is New York City Ninety-seven Sosa A to Z up in the spot representin Takin it back from here its sposed to be Takin ya back son take it back Check it [Chorus] Six digit trickin coke and henny mixin many listen Fuckin give me mine dont wanna see no penny missin Its old tradition how we click and fall in position The rap coalition, we gettin rich an [A+] Poetically Im deadly like a crucifiction Buddha addiction Dismissin competition when they roll wit friction My whole crew be schemin flippy Like ixing for that chicken Smith brothas and A on ya Mason-Dixon Who want the steel cap feel the real rap Patiently my whole crew waited and we rock premeditated Chucked underground like the rap genie And watch the shore by the rising tide now the whole world can see me When they get foul thats when my style gets wild I hang a man in front of a crowd without a trial KAPOW, yo thats all she wrote end the quote For frontin, a brotha got a dome and his legs broke [Chorus: 2X] [A+] Yeah son I want it all your crib, cars and beepers Wit hundred dollar sneakers my sounds blowin ya speakers Burgundy landcruisers chrome rims on blue rugers Lyrical hollow tip slug point trugers [AZ] Yo yo Yo drug connects Diamond cut bergets drippin wet My hole is there from Cu-bec got her flippin checks What, I push a black Lex with gold on my neck You rockin wit a vest tryin to catch a hole in ya chest Firm official, exotic girl but wanna be the ritual Leavin lights shine light theyve been psyched to slip through [A+] I will abolish MCs get straight up demolished Yo my mind is like a nine I load it up wit knowledge [Chorus: 2X] The realism must continue where I live is like a battlefield We all poor but on my block is like a half a mil Surrounded by the most criminal type of elements Blunts, stunts, gunshots, broken-down developments Its all illegal, young juveniles wit the desert eagles Street sweepers, heaters, soon-to-be retreaters Its routine, people seem to go through a cycle So confused, to choose between the bible or the rifle Watch em stifle Yo me an son gone escalate this And get these papers run some capers while they catch the vapors Yeah son, dont got no time for no chicken trickin Its the lyrical addiction Cuz me an AZ be politikin [Chorus: 4X]