| So it’s Friday night and I was chilling downtown
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| With my old-school crew drinking Gatorade and peach soda
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| 'Cause we hardcore nigga’s, you know?
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| And we like do to with something like that
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| And I saw this cutie standing by the bodega
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| I said, «hey baby, what’s your name?»
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| He said «I don’t know»
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| I said, «How could you not know your own name, baby?»
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| He said «It's like Quincy»
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| I said, «Like, oh, like Quincy Jones?»
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| He said «No, Quincy Cleofis Jenkins»
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| I said «Hey, you should have mentioned that before
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| I remember seeing you way back in Toys 'R Us
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| You were buying a Barbie for your mums, weren’t you?»
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| He said, «No, I was buying that Barbie for myself»
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| I said, «That's alright, I used to play with Barbies when I was little»
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| He said «Really?» |
| and handed me a red Skittle and I ate it
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| It was rather fruity so I took one back to my crew and split it with them, yeah
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| I think it was blue. |
| A blueberry Skittle, that’s what we like to eat
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| 'Cause we hardcore nigga’s
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| Hardcore nigga’s, grabbing our Glocks 'n Teks
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| Rolled it around high school, picking up thirteen-year-old boys
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| Yeah, one time
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| The negro league and the Herbaliser
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| Chilling with Quincy Cleofis Jenkins on the sex and he does it like that
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| That’s how I like it, that’s lowe I hike to do
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| How I like to do? |
| I flip the word for you
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| Then I take it back and do another verse
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| And sometimes I like to fucking curse, ah!
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| One time, here’s a train! |
| going past, making me insane
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| I knew this boy way back in Brooklyn
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| He used to like to take triple fat gooses off little babies
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| And to sell 'em to old ladies for three pennies and two dollars
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| And buy the change and go buy blow-pops and rainblows and Bazooka Joe’s
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| And even when he was reading comics like the X-men, yeah
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| But I shot him, I shot him in the head and killed him, yeah
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| That was way back in September
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| And I did three (…), got fucked up, got scars on my face
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| But it’s okay 'cause that’s how we do it in the place
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| Hardcore nigga’s, that’s right
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| So fuck all that
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| Then, then talking spaceships and, and, and, and, and that other shit
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| That I can’t remember, just freestyling, chilling with the Herbaliser
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| Just feeling the vibe in
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| Wish I could play techie with the shit didn’t break so often
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| But that’s okay, 'cause we’re going back to Boston
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| Well, I am not going back to Boston
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| But I like to eat beans which give me gas sometimes
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| And I’d be farting on the mic, making it smell!
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| So that MCs come up and say, what one was here
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| That’s right, one time for Quincy Cleofis Jenkins
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| Can I get an amen?
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| Amen! |
| Amen!
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| Can I get a hallelujah?
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| Hallelujah!
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| Can I get a witness?
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| Witness!
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| God damn!
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| Quincy Cleofis Jenkins, my man, eating Skittles, chilling with ten vittles
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| Ten honeys, thirteen-year-old boys, yeah, that’s how I like it
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| So bring the noise
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| One time
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| Did I tell you I got shot?
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| No?!
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| Last week?
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| No!
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| Last week, got shot in the spleen, kinda hurt
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| I thought it was my pancreas, said, oh damn, he shot me
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| Two times
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| Can I get an amen once again?
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| Amen!
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| Thank your brothers, thank you, thank you, thank you
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| Thank you very much, we’ll passing the collection plate around
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| Trying to get some money
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| 'Cause we some broke ass hardcore nigga’s drinking Gatorade and peach soda
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| On the corner
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| Yeah, one time
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| You can fade it out one time
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| Fade it out one time
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| Fade it out one time |