Memory Lane (Sittin' In Da Park) - Explicit Album Version

A'ight, fuck that shit! Word, word
Fuck that other shit, you know what I'm sayin'?
We gon' do a lil' somethin' like this
You know what I'm sayin'? (Stay up on that shit)
Keep it on, and on, and on, and on, and
Know'm sayin'? Big Nas, Grand Wizard, God, what is it?
(It's like) haha, you know what I'm sayin'?
Yo, go ahead and rip that shit, dunn

I rap for listeners, blunt heads, fly ladies, and prisoners
Henessey-holders and old-school niggas, then I be dissin' a
Unofficial that smoke Woolie Thai
I dropped out of Cooley High
Gassed up by a coke-head cutie pie
Jungle survivor, fuck who's the live-er
My man put the battery in my back, a difference from Energizer
Sentence begins indented with formality
My duration's infinite, moneywise or physiology

Poetry, that's a part of me, retardedly bop
I drop the ancient manifested hip-hop straight off the block
I reminisce on park jams, my man was shot for his sheep coat
Choco blunts'll make me see him drop in my weed smoke
It's real, grew up in trife life, did times or white lines
The high pipes, murderous night times, the knife fights and blight crimes

Chill on the block with Cognac, cold strapped
With my peeps that's into drug money market interact
No sign of the beast in the blue Chrysler
I guess that means peace
For niggas, no sheisty vice to just snipe ya
Start off the dice-rollin' match, from craps to cee-lo
With side-bets, so roll a deuce, nothin' below
(Peace, God!) Peace, God! Now the shit is explained
I'm takin' niggas on a trip straight through memory lane

It's like that, y'all
It's like that, y'all
It's like that, y'all

Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge
Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge
Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge
Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge

One for the money, two for pussy and foreign cars
Three for Alizé, niggas deceased or behind bars
I rap divine, God, check the prognosis, is it real or showbiz?
My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses
Live amongst no roses, only the drama
For real, a nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja
Here's my basis, my razor embraces, many faces
Your telephone blown, black, stitches or fat shoelaces

Peoples are petro, dramatic, automatic .44, I let blow
And back down po-po when I'm vexed, so
My pen taps the paper, then my brain's blank
I see dark streets, hustlin' brothers who keep the same rank
Pumpin' for somethin', some'll prosper, some fail
Judges hangin' niggas, uncorrect bails for direct sales
My intellect prevails from a hangin' cross with nails
I reinforce the frail, with lyrics that's real

Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats
I decipher prophecies through a mic and say, "Peace"
I hung around the older crews while they sling smack to dingbats
They spoke of Fat Cat; that nigga's name made bell rings, black
Some fiends scream about Supreme Team, a Jamaica Queens thing
Uptown was Alpo, son, heard he was kingpin, yo

Fuck, rap is real! Watch the herbs stand still
Never talkin' to snakes, 'cause the words of man kill
True in the game, as long as blood is blue in my veins
I pour my Heineken brew to my deceased crew on memory lane

Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge
Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge
Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge
Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge

Comin' outta-a-a-outta-a-a-outta Queensbridge
The most dangerous MC is
Comin' outta-a-a-outta-a-a-outta Queensbridge
The most dangerous MC is
Comin' outta-a-a-a-a-outta Queensbridge
The most dangerous MC is
Comin' outta-a-a-a-a-a-outta Queensbridge
The most dangerous MC is
Me number one, and you know where me from