Terrace Martin - Out of Towner lyrics

Yeah blood, let's take these n***as back to 96, 11th grade when a n***a was walking the Compton High School. Cincinnati Red fitted snug on my motherf**ing forehead. Nike backpack on, you know like Durant be wearing. Nike straps tighter than a virgin p**y Illmatic in the Walkman, what? Sitting on the subway they looking like "who is that?" The boy gutter all hood New York sewer rat You can never mace me, where Cuda at? They love me out in Harlem like a ten dollar buddha sack I spit that Ill Street Blues, yeah Kool G Rap But my style is big, where the Coogis at? I said my style is Big now light a L As I skip to the next track on Supreme Clientele Ghost to Manhattan, seat reclined in the Aston Tom Ford gla**es cause NY is into fashion Madison. Square. Garden. Feeling like Spike Lee's squares, Jordans You squares ain't important Fresh to d**h my gear's in a coffin *cough cough* Why that n***a coughin'? Blowing that sour diesel I ain't be here that often Riding on the A train, listening to Ghostface I'm just ridin on the A train, listenin to Ghostface Riding on the A train, listening to Ghostface I'm just riding on the A train, listening to Ghostface Pull up in that Derrick Rose hop out number nines or elevens You n***as is copycats, my style is patent leather South side of the Chi n***a I ain't packing never I ain't shy of the Chi, Jay Cutler in cold weather And all I do is win, 72 and 10 Ball like Mike, Scottie, Dennis Rodman and them 7-4 Chevelle, n***as riding in them k**ers from Cabrini-Green, I was riding with them Pelle jackets n***as out here robbing in them And even getting coat-jacked ain't Common to him Keep thinking you Larry Hoover that line'll have you shook That's that Crack Music n***a forgot I was on the hook G.D.s, Vice Lords, Four Corner Hustlers Latin Kings, MCs, all em will f** with us Blowing trees like the windy city n***a I blow trees in the Windy City Riding on the L train, listening to Kanye I'm just riding on the L train, listening to Kanye I'm just riding in on the L train, listening to Kanye Said I'm riding on the L train, listening to Kanye I be in Lil Haiti First forty eighty Ain't nothing bout to go down n***a my fam's Zoe Pound And ever since they locked my n***a Zo down Everything slow down, but my n***a Ross is on The homie Khaled put the Boss's on We blowing orange like the Dolphins home And we don't floss the chrome We turn that Wildcat offense on That New Era fly off ya dome I'm about to take my talents to South Beach I don't even go to the games, but got Heat Ain't no Trickin Daddy, I take a b**h to get some Cuban food Have a couple mojitos then f** her like a Cuban do Riding down Collins in the newest coup Flo-Rida on the place, they think I'm Uncle Luke n***a Tony Montana, who the f** is you? I'm the all-red side of the Rubik's Cube Riding in the fast lane, listening to Rozay I'm just ridin in the fast lane, listening to Rozay Riding in the fast lane, listening to Rozay I'm just riding in the fast lane, listening to Rozay