Pete Rock - The PJ's lyrics

rate me

Yo man get ya ass in here man

You know the fuckin' police lookin' for you man?

Come on man, them niggaz just left here man

Come on man you know we got mad fuckin' blow up in the motherfuckin' lab son

This nigga's off the hook man, Yo Chef talk to these niggaz man

We baggin' ounces in the back of the Maz'

Ostrich on, Wollriches, three Quarter-ness

A.D.I.D.A.S. with' Stan Smith's the grants on the stove

And Aunt Lo about to come to the Lab-o

She givin' me some credit for clothes

That's the slang work for bricks, dicks analyze

You never know who lookin' it's deranged world

With' snitches is enterprisin' black man hold on

Like magnums in the wind cause when it get cold

Parole give a homey like ten

What's the prognosis? : drugs, guns, and ounces

Of gold fish fly reefer out-town, bitches is stone six

And birds back in 18 and played C.R.E.A.M gray beam

It's lean new A.D.I.D.A.S jackets

Flippin' up small dean visualizin' portraits

Fresh cuts brand new Porsche's going with hand-to-hand

Servin' the source yo, runnin' from the police

This day-to-day lifestyle where niggaz get arraigned & get chain

It's like cycle-blaow!

Drug dealers, stars & celebrities (ghetto celebs)

Even dudes with a few felonies (a few felonies)

In the PJ's this what they tellin' me (tellin' who?)

Sniffin' real hard but you not smellin' me (smell me)

The crowd yellin' for Chef, Killa & Pete Rock (Pete Rock)

Got 'em movin' like the millenium beat box (beat box)

Shit is all hood 'till they hear the heat cock (Whoo!)

Fall back & let the beat rock

Degrees of experience qualifies me to speak in certain areas where many can't reach

So I prepared a speech for y'all to then listen while I spit the hot venomous shit

My whole clique sick, infested with' the itchy tigger finger mob related Noodle-leanie

Universal flag Beanie, Son you wouldn't want to see me black down

Masta .4 pound clip full of hollow tip

Round turn the fuckin' sound up, my cup runneth over Hennessey

The Bill Bixby Ninja Scroll, niggaz that roll

My son did four in the hole, tenant population, neva told, facin' parole

Sipped the old gold style, beat it in trial

My mild-mannered .9 Bandit, flow drunk look at skunk weed

Stickin' razor sharp rip 'em, bites lift 'em we at the jam direct

The Ghetto Gospel, collaboration

Nine word could change the nation, no doubt!

Tuna salad & Puma rackets pushin' through the projects

Captain get your money yo show me no slackin

We drive the meanest Joints shoot through Medina with' a Evisu jeans

And ninas stop by juniors we hittin' cheeba briefly

Crackers observe you got the undercovers, niggaz just love us

We know that they suckers, you know what? - What? Mosey don't be nosey yo!

Watch these fake niggaz with' these thank you cards them shits is bogey

Snitches in the hood up to no good

We would kill a lot of motherfuckers but the timin' ain't good

So while my bankroll climbin' I be out on consignment

Breezin' Ki's with 29 letter melted cheeses

All of my papers now in real estate white folks

Been doin' this since '69 It's billions & killer weight

So prosperous moves with' the jewels, with Wu Nikes on

It's cool don't eva act like niggaz ain't who (?) One!

Yeah! We just sit back in the Luxury Toasters

Slidin' through the motherfuckin' projects

Stand away from you fake ass motherfucker's

Layin' up in the barbershops gettin' fucked up cuts

We don't respect y'all (respect y'all)

Knaw'sayin'? This is Shala Louis Rich, Pete Rock, Masta Killa, The Vatican

One! I'm gone

"Well this next number I'm gonna dedicate to my barber

Cause he been trimming me for the last past 3 years"

"Heh... heh... heeh... heh... heeh... Heeeeeeey! "