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Intro (Harlem's Own) (feat. Max B) Music Lyrics

Jim Jones

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(Best rapper alive!)

Dame Dash:
My nigga Jim Jones
What's really good, Jimmy Boy
Ya know I'm always proud of you
I think you represent Harlem to the fullest
You know what i find amusing?
How much niggaz really wanna, be like a Harlem nigga
How niggaz run around calling themselves
American Gangstas
Well first and foremost
A real bonafide official Harlem nigga, would never betray his friends
That includes, snitchin', fuckin' a nigga wife
I mean, ya know, ya man
Shortin' a nigga on some work
Lookin' out for a nigga when he's doin' a bid
A Harlem nigga just basically
A real Harlem that is, is basically thorough

Verse 1
Jim Jones:
Consumed with the hunger, that soon turn guilt
And it was Judas' amongst us, that proved that they got killed
We got the power of the streets, coppin' pies with the yeast
Them tasty, pastries, coppin' rides off the streets
A hustler's education, screamin' fuck the legislation
I way got no license but, truck got registration
You can smell it in the air, if you in the belly, say a prayer
With white, now they circle through the blocks where they dealt all those squares
They cooked it different and, they pushed it different and
The talk was wavy and, the look is different
The alpha and omega, the arm, legga legga
Lou Vuitton, the Gucci on, charms over the sweater
Guns under the leather, no top in the good weather
Tear up 7th in the Carrera, whatever
None can do it better, whoever, I said it
And I bet I won't regret it cocksuckas

Hook
Max B:
I can tell you to shoot them niggaz heads
I'm gon' slide on my ski mask, I'ma shoot at niggaz cribs
Know the Capo think he feds, I know who that nigga is
Who that is? An American Gangsta (gangsta)
Ayyyy Ayyyy Ay
'Bout to take that shit back right
Just spent a buck on a brand-new chain
And I'm 'bout to make that shit back twice
Pyrex pot, 'bout to cook that 'caine
And I'm 'bout to make thta shit back nice
I'm an American Gangsta (gangsta)
Ayyyy Ayyyy Ay

Verse 2
Jim Jones:
Fancy cars and them fly bitches
Hoop dreams, drug dealer wishes, you know the business
We took abandon buildings, turned 'em into gold mines
Three pumpers, two look-outs for the po-nines
In front of buildings, jewelry on like it's showtime
And I can make a million off a coke dime
We cook that yay and put that base on the street
And then we broke it down, got 60K off a key
And the dubs was so juicy, I had 'em off the movie
I believe out I could fly coming out my Couptey
And no credit, we only had cash
We copped the cars, whole, and showed 'em off on the ave
From that brown paper bag, to that new paper tag
Around July we did the pretty linen
4-5's with the pretty women
It ain't a ride that ya kid ain't get in
We push the work out like Richard Simmons

Hook
Max B:
I can tell you to shoot them niggaz heads
I'm gon' slide on my ski mask, I'ma shoot at niggaz cribs
Know the Capo think he feds, I know who that nigga is
Who that is? An American Gangsta (gangsta)
Ayyyy Ayyyy Ay
'Bout to take that shit back right
Just spent a buck on a brand-new chain
And I'm 'bout to make that shit back twice
Pyrex pot, 'bout to cook that 'caine
And I'ma make that shit back nice
I'm an American Gangsta (gangsta)
Ayyyy Ayyyy Ay

Dame Dash:
I mean, I'm speakin' for old school Harlem
I mean, the Harlem I know
I came up in the late 80's, early 90's
And I heard the 70's was crazy
There's a couple niggaz I heard was doin' it, officially
I mean, some niggaz pretended thta they was American Gangstas
They got that paper, they did have that swagger
Bought the cars
Had them bitches, but at the end of the day
They snitched, they told on their friends
So that means every fly thing they did is erased
And I really hope niggaz understand that
There ain't no excuses, betraying your friends
Snitchin'

Jim Jones - Intro (Harlem's Own) (feat. Max B) Music Lyrics

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