Story

Somebody slipped me a mickey
I'm dustin' my Raucomb
Can't see straight and I can't feel my jawbone
Can't find my phone so I can't even call home
Damn (damn)
Heard a nigga said he was buggin'
Where Sheek Louch or Jadakiss or cousin?
Which one of them niggas could come get him?
'Cause homie set him up and you know that he gone wet 'em

Don't know where I'm at or why I'm there
Or what the fuck I was doin', my memory is ruined (my memory's ruined)
If I blacked out that seems awkward (huh?)
I feel nauseous, I'm usually so cautious (usually)
Searchin' for somethin' that's familiar
But then I smell haze from Vermilyea
I guess I'm on Dyckman in the Heights (guess)
Then I heard nut-cracker and Vicodin and Ice

It was the plug's right hand
Felt the gun butt, woke up in the big white van
Y'all niggas just kidnapped the kid?
He told me, "Hell yeah, boy, you you know what it is"
"I know where you live, I'ma bring you to the crib"
"If you don't get the money up, I'ma kill your kids"
Told him, "Nigga, I just moved"
He hit me with the gun again, I know it's gon' bruise

Damn, came in the house, took off my shoes (uh-huh)
Put my feet up, grabbed the remote, turned on the news
Cheese Doodles, Ramen Noodles, Toaster Strudels (the munchies man)
I'm high, nigga 'bout to make pancakes
Or should I just go to sleep until styles come? (Where this nigga at man?)
He takin' too long we supposed to do a juice bar run

Then my phone rang like, "Yo, we got your man" (who this?)
I hang up like this stupid bitch playin' again (stop playin' with me)
Then he hit me with a picture of SP
I'm sayin' to myself, "What kidnapper gon' text me?"
Fuck outta here, "LOL, FOH"
Then he send another picture with a gun on his waist

I'm like, oh shit (what?), I need more liquor
I got money and everythin' don't touch my nigga (touch)
Where we meetin' at? I'm comin' alone, grab my chrome
Then I hit my nigga Kiss on the phone (ayo Kiss, come over here my nigga)

Ayo dog, it's funky out this bitch (what you mean?)
It's some coward niggas tryin' to get rich
I swear to God, I'ma leave these niggas right in the ditch
He like, "Yo, chill, chill, try to relax, I know you ready to go to war"
I'm like, "Nigga that's facts" (facts, nigga)
But if you come around the back, silencers on
And put a couple in the air (you got this?), these niggas is gone

I grabbed the .44 long, they think somethin' is sweet
Box of shells already had the pump in the Jeep (word)
Closed casket, I ain't leavin' nothin' to see
Tryna figure out who these niggas fuckin' with P
They probably seen him makin' a bet, puttin' it in
We got family on Sherman, it wouldn't be them
Like the line between love and hate, couldn't be thin (uh-huh)
They don't rock like that or we wouldn't be friends (drop like that)

Ready to dump on sight in front of the law
I met Louch on Academy in front of the stall (what's up nigga, you ready?)
Was the call blocked or did they leave a number to call?
He like, "Nah, son, private, hop in, drive it"
Anythin' we ever been through, we survived it, you know that, nigga"
Real talk, I just hope they don't try shit
Before we get to 'em or somebody gotta die quick

Shit, I was lost for a second (uh-huh)
I snapped right back when we crossed 207th
Thinkin' to myself, should've bought the MAC-11 (fuck they doin')
Seen a white van followin' the Porsche in the seven
(Yo, who the fuck are those niggas man?)
Damn, maybe I'm just illin' (yo, is that?)
The van made a right, BM in the Porsche trailed 'em
(Hol' on, follow 'em, follow 'em)

We was two cars back (uh-huh)
They went through the light then pulled over by a buildin' (slow down)
Still no signs of the ghost (uh-uh)
We kept our eyes on 'em, but we didn't play 'em close (slow up, slow up)
Seen the crib that they went in (slow up, slow up)
Cocked my shit, Louch slipped another clip in
Knocked on the door with the hammers (let me out)
They all lookin' at the playback on the cameras (what the fuck?)
Lucky we ain't squeeze off the weapons
Part of a short film that P was directin'

Yeah, we needed to get it without rushin' (got it)
We set it up right, the white van was production
We caught y'all both in rare form
We gotta shoot shit like this from here on (I'm tellin' you son)
Then we got high and bent
And laughed it off
Yeah, and that's how that went, word

(This shit fuckin' crazy)
Haha, this nigga P
He got me and Louch ridin' all around Washington Heights
With motherfuckin' pumps, .44 longs, Desert Eagles
All kind of shit that get you a hundred years
Lookin' for this nigga in one of these buildings
And the whole time, he tapin' this shit
For him and-
Shootin' a short film him and Poobz wrote (we got this shit Poobz)
This niggas the illest yo (we got these niggas on camera, my nigga)
Anyway after we calmed down, we meet
The Dominican niggas gave us a couple ounces
We bought a couple bottles
We got high and drunk
And we laughed that shit off while them niggas was editin' that shit
This nigga's crazy yo (you see this shit nigga)
Ha-ha!
Hollywood on these niggas, word
Word, to everything nigga
This shit lookin' crazy
Fuckin' crazy