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: Long ago in days untold were ruled by lords of greed maidens fared with gold they dared to bare their wombs that bleed kings and queens and guillotines
Long ago in days untold were ruled by lords of greed maidens fared with gold they dared to bare their wombs that bleed kings and queens and guillotines
you take the blame You ass, went from Jaz to hangin' with Caine, to Herb, to Big And, Eminem murdered you on your own shit You a dick-ridin' faggot, you love the attention Queens
f-ck up in here Common, Don, Old G, battle rap, oh that n-ggas know you can't really f-ck with that Pusha T, the Clipse just made a classic Good music
[Pusha T - Chorus] Doing my thing, pocket full of green hand on my d-ck in my thousand dollar jeans your girl a Queen, my girl a thing you know what though
She was a real royal lady, true patron of the arts Said the best country singers die in the back of classic cars So if I ever got too hungry for a suitcase
in Maddox, then let ya dame have it, flames to the attic The stains on ya fabric, the paint in the graphic Canibus and G Rap, bangin a classic And if
The 3 color flag can't hold my baggys sag 7 1 8 to omega Black motion is ocean style Slick in my ways since days of the classic Now glamour boys want
fall out with Eminem (Chicka) No! Did I really get dropped from "Tommy Boy" (Chicka) No! Nigga please, I use more tools than "Black and Decker" Wrote songs for niggas for classic
as Jimmy Iovine, as corrupt as Don King Boxed into the ghetto, so be champ with the bling Industry's the arena, the internet is the ring You train audible Queens
' mad kids, respect all my gangsta's doin' bad shit An' that's it, Mad Child does nitroglycerin and acid Warlock, focused on witch craft You're listening to classic
fuckin' throw ya head up Yeah Yo, yo he got his stones from Greece In his mouth he had like thirty plus karats Big ratchets, smoke cigars like a Bogart classic
pan With rhymes, and ya'll can't believe it's not butter I told ya'll to chill, stretch all out like franks on the grill With a classic deal, I'm like
ratchet Not, no crab shit, got bagged with the mag Taxi cab shit Clit was hangin' out her panties with no where to stash it It was classic Nowadays
read the scriptures And sighs his name The skies full of flames Streets are gothic Twelve niggaz lay dead in front of their projects Reminding d's of a classic
flow, here we go Yeah, here we go, what? Funk, funk flow, funk, funk flow, here we go This one goes out to all those heads KnowhatI'msayin'? Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens
out hits, we put out classics We turn bitches out, take turns in that bitch mouth Carve niggaz up, show niggaz what it's all about It's us, the best of Queens
