Meyhem Lauren – Drug Lords lyrics

1,2
Straight Up
(La Música de Harry Fraud)

[Chorus: Meyhem Lauren)
Catch us on stage looking like drug lords
Pen paragraphs for all my niggas that sling swords
Whips, chain seasonal, roofs get removed
Bitches baggin bundles new, our vocals getting EQ
Live nigga rap, real talk that’s us (us)
Cashmere everything, gats that bust (bust)
Outdoors, break laws, the streets we trust
Make noise, never talk to the boys, let em discuss

[Verse 1: AG Da Coroner]
Call the doctor, lay you where you eat your pasta
With big choppers, from the rastas in the helicopter
Video games, we don’t play
PS3 rappers get broken in broad day
Right on Myrtle and Broadway
Run up in the (booby?/movie?) spot and hit em where they all stay
Family ties, reason why your family cries
While a nigga shorty wop with vanity eyes
We the stars of our own movies
Sly Stallone couldn’t move me
Feet up on the sofa rolling a doobie
I walk with the strength of ten million hood niggas
Who like to cause ruckus and love to pull triggers
Habitual line steppers always trying to undercut
Name on a dotted line, reserve the right to fuck you up
I’m Kobe with the rock, you a 4th quarter Lebron nigga, ready to slop

[Verse 2: Meyhem Lauren]
Back to that other shit, listing like a wet seal
Work phone ringing, fiends looking for a fresh deal
Blind stances turn the mind trances
Shorty’s flat footed but her nose does line dances
I love that intricate thug rap, supply it often
They tried to clip my wings I’ll never be retired flossing
Sipping silent, thinking violent, call it quiet saucing
The jewels I’ve picked up over years is an acquired fortune
Been burning shit consecutive, we never tire torchin’
Your reputation has no juice, me I'm admired often
Bitches wanna smoke, we give them floral rinses
That pass they mouth around and turn them to a oral princess
It’s just the way we move, welcome to NY
Meisterstück, in the coop, nigga my pen fly
?Snake sour? shower your whip, if it’s a time of war
We use to grind with raw, hustlin' in the fine velour

[Verse 3: Action Bronson]
Couple dollars in a fiend (cheese) pocket
Scurry to the side of the building to cop it
Scurry back to the lobby to rock it
I’m talking white Olivia Dukakis, Joan Cusack
Suede shoe, blue coupe roof back
(Ayo the cops comin) Boof that
Then break it down so you can toot-toot-a-loot that
Straight from Queens, loafer to the pedal
Steaks are medium rare, hosted for the metal (medal?)
I’m getting closer with the Devil
I won’t stop til there’s an ocean on the bezel
Sand art in my weed jar
Did a backflip right into the window of the green car
Then I peel like an orange, leather outfits Martin Lawrence
Three prongs on the pasta fork, spin the bucatini
Doo doo stains in the joint
It’s me

[Hook]