Memory Lane (Sittin' In Da Park) Video (MV)

Aight, f*ck that shit
Word, word
F*ck that other shit, you know what I'm sayin'?
We gon' do a lil' something like this
You know what I'm sayin'?
(Stay up on that shit)
Keep it on and on and on and on and
Know what I'm sayin'? Big Nas, Grand Wizard
God, what is it? (It's like)
Ha, know what I'm sayin'?
Yo, go 'head (rip that shit)

I rap for listeners, blunt heads, fly ladies and prisoners
Hennessy-holders and old-school niggas, then I be dissin' a
Unofficial that smoke Woolie Thai
I dropped out of Cooley High, gassed up by a cokehead cutie pie
Jungle survivor, f*ck who's the live-r
My man put the battery in my back, a difference from Energizer
Sentence begins indented, with formality
My duration's infinite, money-wise or physiology
Poetry, that's a part of me, retardedly bop
I drop the ancient manifested hip-hop, straight off the block
I reminisce on park jams, my man was shot for his sheep coat
Choco blunts'll make me see him drop in my weed smoke
It's real, grew up a trife life, the times of white lines, the high pipes
Murderous night times and knife fights invite crimes
Chill on the block with Cognac, cold strap
With my peeps that's into drug money market interact
No sign of the beast in the blue Chrysler, I guess that means peace
For niggas, no sheisty vice to just snipe ya
Start off the dice-rollin' match, from craps to ceelo
With side-bets, so roll a deuce, nothin' below
(Peace, God) Peace, God, now the shit is explained
I'm takin' niggas on a trip straight through memory lane
It's like that y'all, it's like that y'all

(Now let me take a trip down memory lane)
(Comin' outta Queensbridge)
(Now let me take a trip down memory lane)
(Comin' outta Queensbridge)
(Now let me take a trip down memory lane)
(Comin' outta Queensbridge)
(Now let me take a trip down memory lane)
(Comin' outta Queensbridge)

One for the money
Two for pussy and foreign cars
Three for Alize, niggas deceased or behind bars
I rap divine, God
Check the prognosis, is it real, or showbiz?
My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses
Live amongst no roses, only the drama
For real, a nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja
Here's my basis, my razor embraces many faces
You're telephone blown, black stitches or fat shoelaces
Peoples are petro, dramatic automatic .44 I let blow
And back down po-po when I'm vexed, so
My pen taps the paper then my brain's blank
I see dark streets, hustlin' brothers who keep the same rank
Pumpin' for somethin', some'll prosper, some fail
Judges hangin' niggas, uncorrect bails for direct sales
My intellect prevails from a hangin' cross with nails
I reinforce the frail with lyrics that's real
Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats
I decipher prophecies through a mic and say "Peace"
I hung around the older crews while they sling smack to dingbats
They spoke of Fat Cat, that nigga's name made bell rings, black
Some fiends scream about Supreme Team, a Jamaica Queens thing
Uptown was Alpo, son, heard he was kingpin
Yo, f*ck, rap is real, watch the herbs stand still
Never talkin' to snakes, 'cause the words of man kill
True in the game, as long as blood is blue in my veins
I pour my Heineken brew to my deceased crew on memory lane

(Now let me take a trip down memory lane)
(Comin' outta Queensbridge)
(Now let me take a trip down memory lane)
(Comin' outta Queensbridge)
(Now let me take a trip down memory lane)
(Comin' outta Queensbridge)
(Now let me take a trip down memory lane)
(Comin' outta Queensbridge)
(Comin' outta Queensbridge)
The most dangerous MC is
(Comin' outta Queensbridge)
The most dangerous MC is
(Comin' outta Queensbridge)
The most dangerous MC is
(Comin' outta Queensbridge)
The most dangerous MC is
Me number one, and you know where me from