T-Shirt - '86 Mets (3:05 AM) lyrics

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T-Shirt - '86 Mets (3:05 AM) lyrics

[Intro: Lansky Jones] I find myself walking to work And I can see the sunrise, right over Queens Boulevard And I say to myself... Why hasn't Queens gotten a trophy in a very long time? I mean, I feel like we deserve to shine right now Don't we? we gotta beautiful, beautiful, beautiful team And I can see us parading down Roosevelt avenue right now... [Verse 1: T.Shirt] Put me on as a sub-, gettin' the glove Love in my soul, Queens in my blood Whoever thought I'd get paid for being a thug Pretty much, beatin' 'em up First time I got my dick s**ed was down at the Rocks Down the street from my crib, couple of blocs Dawg I had spots, built like a trap star f** it, I made a story and parked my backyard Came from nothin' said I was gon' be something First thing you need to know is millionaires ain't frontin' Talking that hard work, n***as ain't bluffin' Road to riches, all go through the same tunnel Trouble looking for me down 21st I'm in a brown Novaa with yellow stripes on mellow nights Blowing L's, blowing past yellow lights Me and my dawgs is tight, it's just the life [Hook] We like the '86 New York Mets Blunts and d** in effect We pa**in' bottles in the middle of s** Gotta get it together, 'fore I'm bitin' the dust Bury me with fronts, all together we rust [Verse 2: Roc Marciano] Late at night, we play the slice After the 'caine heist, and hopped in something nice We freezing like the inside of headlight Spit it right, sip the Red Stripe, send your life right to christ We fire at the hour, ice lyrically, I'm a highlight The son god-like, follow the guidelines The men are kind of concubine, play the sideline Later retire at the high rise, Versace Rose My body closed, rappers copy the flows The co*kiest with the hoes, Koro saki and rolls We shower posse's cold, and find your body with holes While I be f**ing with some Hollywood hoes Swallow me whole, John Kani clothes We on the coast, n***as is at the bottom like toads I'm supposed to watch the fly stones and get the dimes home And the S55- drive slow [Hook] 2x [Verse 3: Lansky Jones] Lansk- and Marciano, we are the Fonzarelli I eat at Hollis Deli, bag a b**h in Howard Beach Her body talkin', hopefully this chick wanna eat I gave her me she always open like a Georgia peach Quarter way to I need an order at the Satyr This Queens next chapter, we celebrate with vodka And some big time crackers, Matzah, my speech is street I never talk no dirt amongst the Castas, I brush my teeth Anywhere we find the paper like an Alfie Kohn Dawg, I'm after cash like I'm rosen Colt .45, till I die and liquor in my liver While you still full of sh** like kitty litter So what's better? all I do is crack these yolks They lookin' at me like the unknown comic on celebrity roasts Couldn't give a f**, I was meant to go off Y'all like unleavened bread, you was meant to be soft

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