62 Pick Up

Lyrics

[Intro] Damn, man, they gotta let 'Mega, yo Word, man, it's real in here, man Order in the court Cory McKay, before I pass sentence Do you have anything you would like to say to the Queens County Court? [Verse: Cormega] Yo, I live the life of '62 pick-ups Pumpin' on corners, beat downs to stick-ups Seein' events, of which I had to stay silent Murder, extortion, and all types of violence Kids, livin' the life of ghetto heavens Sellin' cracks, ready to attack with knives and MAC-11's Havin' dreams of being big bosses Driving porsches, by the time, they get rich, they corpses Son, it's a shame, but in this game The strong survive, either get live or get slain 'Cause in the ghetto, respect is mandatory Drug wars ignitin', mad fightin' for territory My niggas, steppin' with automatic weapons Stick up kids, with .357's Yo, it's violence, I know old timers move silent But nowadays, niggas be wildin' Drug dealers stylin', with five-series Beamers It deep the way, sunny day, don't seem to reach us Forty-five under the seat of a Lexus Thugs rollin' with bulletproof hats and vestes Earnin' ya props off big dime rocks Your man shorty rock is on the block with a Glock He just got knocked, now he's out on bail For semi automatic, and a undercover sale Trained mercenary, with a heart that's cold Pushin' an Acura, at 17 years old In the passenger seat, and he's smokin' a blunt With some shine on, any live nigga would want Somebody runs up on him and you know what they want Tellin' shorty, run the jewels and don't try to front Shorty reaches for the nine, but before he could shoot Blood scattered in the '92 Acura coupe Another victim of modern day stick-ups This is the life of '62 pick-ups [Outro] For the charge of robbery in the first degree I sentence you to a minimum of five And a maximum of fifteen years The sentences shall be run in concurrent They ain't got the gat right now, man Yo, they better let my man out Yo, what the fuck? I don't care 'bout no judge, nobody