[Intro: Pike]
Yo, hold up, yo you know what..
S.I., Staten Island, niggaz, yo, yo
[Pike]
Ain`t no more talkin` money or fame
I`m stalkin` this game, and when I`m done
I`m stickin` the fork in this game and run clutchin` my gun
Name P.I., place S.I., N.Y.C
Caramel papi chulo, mammies vena que
Let`s see if you could stop me
I beat it like a one man posse, I leave it wet and sloppy
I`m cocky, at times laid back, like to keep my fade back
A lot of niggaz about to get paid back (HOOOOO!)
Because a lot cats that don`t like me
I guess they thought I took it lighty
But I rhyme and make you niggaz wanna fight me
I`ll melt a nigga like a icey, and wipe `em up with a towel
Still on the prowl, how bout? It`s Staten Isle, I`m foul
The same time I got respect for what`s real
Who said Staten Island niggaz ain`t real?
You dead wrong, and took you tied up with a red thong
For goin` against The Struggle
We squeeze on the team, crash your huddle
[Lounge Mode]
Well I`m known in the hood like Castellano
You could see me in the fiddy, puffin` H. Armano
Doin` eighty on the Belt`, follow signs to Verrazano
I keep two guns in my hood like paisano
My style iller than ill, I`m sick like Alzheimer`s
A bugged cat, ready to bring back old drama
If it wasn`t for the Slash, what could I tell mamma
God damn, it`s bad blood between brick and the mud (HOOOOO!)
Brick and the thugs, shittin` on love
Turned over on the newest, start spittin` the snub
My flow is nice and I ain`t worried about them hoes at night
For my wife and seeds, gotta get this dough shit right
I`m analyzin`, a look how the pro`s get ripe
And number 16, yeah, I want it showin` the lights
I rep the hood, gotta respect the good
Even the ones that left the hood, bitch!
[Chorus: Lounge Mode (all) w/ ad-libs]
Car hard suits, Timb boots and millimeters
(We got this, we got this)
Hoes and fancy cars and smokin` reefers
Cellies and beepers (we got this)
Hoodies and sneakers (we got this)
[Remedy]
Yo, it`s the smoked out white boy back on the block
With the thirty eight snubbed nosed, tucked in his sock
From the H-Block, Huegonaut, part of the rock
Shaolin, Staten Isle, and I love hip hop
And when it comes to the kid, man, shit ain`t easy
I Lounge with the Cappa D. and L.O. Beezy (I see you!)
You sees me? Yeah, yo, believes me
The Code:Red for life click, racoons need me
Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh, I got this
Rock this, radio drop this
The Code:Red`s for real, yo, you can`t stop this
None of ya`ll muthafuckas out there could block this
Jumped in the whips, all dipped down low
Ready for a trip, to where, I don`t know
No matter where we go, you can`t stop the flow
The heat`s on, gun`s drawn, what`s up, yo?
[Cappadonna]
Aiyo, my spit never tasted good, I`m sour
I spit for the money and I spit for power
Then I lean on ya`ll like the Eiffel Tower
And to my Staten Isle niggaz, that`s my heart
I might leave for a minute, but could never depart
Yeah, I`m married to this bitch and I`m still fuckin`
I`m in the hood where the guns is nothin`
And niggaz don`t say shit, like E.F. Hutton
Paranoid like Bush, press the button
Don`t make me grab the boomers and get disgustin`
Poppy Wardrobe King, Code:Red Production
Pillage for life niggaz, the hoes that`s crushin`
To all my niggaz that went out bustin`
Grindin`, the black Timbs on, wild out, hustlin`
(We got this, we got this)
[Chorus]
