34th & Beverley lyrics

[Verse 1]
Late night, down wind, and they schemin on your pantie
It's best to blend in, bredrin
And hope your dice rolls seven, if not, phone Kevin
He a friend of mine, he not really pus*y
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 n*ggas strafe
When I was a lil n*gga, 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 n*gga 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 n*gga 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 sh*t
While you sip on your brew, reminiscing on the real
n*gga sh*t we went through, my dude, my dog
Used to see you politicin up at the rim spot
Q-Tip, Dre, Kanye, Diamond D and you had put me in your fifth spot
Now your n*gga's sh*t 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 n*gga, 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

[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 n*ggas in the building lobby
I ain't tough, but kept a blade since them n*ggas robbed me
Yeah the world too cold
n*ggas shinin sh*t 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 b*tch power
Word, my di*k is a gun, your new disc went dumb
But Trey up in this b*tch, you went f*ckin with son