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