34th & Beverley Lyrics - Singles - Chuck Strangers

[Verse 1] 

Late night, down wind, and they schemin on your pantie 

It's best to blend in, Bedra 

And hope your dice rolls seven, if not, phone Kevin 

He a friend of mine, he not really pussy 

But not really a tough guy, when he shot his nine 

Yo, he listen to doves cry, back in the days 

He would give me a whole eighth and walk me to the train safe 

Told me, grown men walk, only coward niggas strafe 

When I was a lil nigga, he'd show me his toast 

I'd follow him out to Gucci when he was coppin his loafs 

And now I boost the beat till the floor shake 

And I'm a spit the pain till the world ache 

No debate, speak on my nigga life 

Cause my mans was great at the corner store on thirty eighth 

Like can we get together, all riders? 

For a day filled with promise, Polos, and Pradas 

Midnight Marauders, peace to your momma 

She knew me as Chey, lil fat nigga always 

Stealing racks from the crates, wanting to bust moves 

Trying hard to be arrogant, parish fews 

The high top ones, I had the white with the blue 

And ain't nobody feel me but you, so bump this shit 

While you sip on your brew, reminiscing on the real 

Nigga shit we went through, my dude, my dog 

Used to see you politicin up at the rim spot 

Q-Tip, Dre, Kanye, Demonte? and you had put me 

In your fifth spot, now your nigga's shit tight 

Like a wrist watch, word 

[Verse 2] 

Ayo word, how they face could ever fester my feelings 

Man this soul too appealin, my music revealin 

The insides of a nigga, I heard your CD your rhymes is iller 

Man, you can't stand them Brooklyn guys 

I be all move with the lava, then you look in the eyes 

Hood scholar, I ain't never been to college, learned it all on my block 

Bread force, but it sway, word to knowledge of Pac 

Word 

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[Verse 3] 

So East Flatbush it's disgustin, flows he bustin 

In the same Polo sport, my mans beside me 

He worried about them lil niggas in the building lobby 

I ain't tough, but kept a blade since them niggas robbed me 

Yeah the world too cold 

Niggas shinin shit and callin it gold, soon as your album drop, they callin it old 

I kill flows and jeans with no holes in 'em 

And all these beats got soul in 'em 

I'm so winnin, but you prayin I lose 

When I'm back in Brooklyn, I get the Choos, she like buy me black guy shoes 

Them socks with Birkenstocks lowkey had you amused 

But you still get undressed cause I need a muse 

Now we lit as a fuse, it's no rules to the posse 

If you from where I'm from, so I gave that bitch power 

Word, my dick is a gun, your new disc went dumb 

But Trey up in this bitch, you went fuckin with sum 

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