A F Az Az Lyrics

Az Lyrics

Yeah yeah 

 Word up (Yeah son) 

 Yeah yo how this goin down nine-six 

 How we livin son (exoticness) 

 Nine-six exoticness (representinÂ’) 

 Know what I mean? (A+) 

 A+ (yo how we livin?) 

 This is New York City 

 Ninety-seven Sosa 

 A to Z up in the spot representin 

 Takin it back from here its sposed to be 

 Takin ya back son take it back 

 Check it 

  

 [Chorus] 

  

 Six digit trickin coke and henny mixin many listen 

 Fuckin give me mine dont wanna see no penny missin 

 Its old tradition how we click and fall in position 

 The rap coalition, we gettin rich an 

  

 [A+] 

  

 Poetically Im deadly like a crucifiction 

 Buddha addiction 

 Dismissin competition when they roll wit friction 

 My whole crew be schemin flippy 

 Like ixing for that chicken 

 Smith brothas and A on ya Mason-Dixon 

 Who want the steel cap feel the real rap 

 Patiently my whole crew waited and we rock premeditated 

 Chucked underground like the rap genie  

 And watch the shore by the rising tide now the whole world can see me 

 When they get foul thats when my style gets wild 

 I hang a man in front of a crowd without a trial 

 KAPOW, yo thats all she wrote end the quote 

 For frontin, a brotha got a dome and his legs broke 

  

 [Chorus: 2X] 

  

 [A+] 

  

 Yeah son I want it all your crib, cars and beepers 

 Wit hundred dollar sneakers my sounds blowin ya speakers 

 Burgundy landcruisers chrome rims on blue rugers 

 Lyrical hollow tip slug point trugers 

  

 [AZ] 

  

 Yo yo 

 Yo drug connects 

 Diamond cut bergets drippin wet 

 My hole is there from Cu-bec got her flippin checks 

 What, I push a black Lex with gold on my neck 

 You rockin wit a vest tryin to catch a hole in ya chest 

 Firm official, exotic girl but wanna be the ritual 

 Leavin lights shine light theyve been psyched to slip through 

  

 [A+] 

  

 I will abolish 

 MCs get straight up demolished 

 Yo my mind is like a nine I load it up wit knowledge 

  

 [Chorus: 2X] 

  

 The realism must continue where I live is like a battlefield 

 We all poor but on my block is like a half a mil 

 Surrounded by the most criminal type of elements 

 Blunts, stunts, gunshots, broken-down developments 

 Its all illegal, young juveniles wit the desert eagles 

 Street sweepers, heaters, soon-to-be retreaters 

 Its routine, people seem to go through a cycle 

 So confused, to choose between the bible or the rifle 

 Watch em stifle 

 Yo me an son gone escalate this 

 And get these papers run some capers while they catch the vapors 

 Yeah son, dont got no time for no chicken trickin 

 Its the lyrical addiction 

 Cuz me an AZ be politikin 

  

 [Chorus: 4X