Purple Jag

(альбом: The Vatican Mixtape Vol. I - 2007)

[Intro: Raekwon (Postaboy)]
What up soldier? (What up playboy?)
Yeah, yeah this is Shaolin reporting in (OK)
Checking you out, I'm hearing about Force Reveal (yeah, yeah)
They said one kid, that's standing real grown out there right now
(I, go, by the name of Posta)
That's my man! So, yo, son? (What up, Rae?)
You know what you gotta do!

[Postaboy:]
Aiyo, I don't give a fuck what level you on
When the metal is drawn, either your life or your vessel is gone
I don't really wanna hurt ya'll fags but I'm sitting on paper
I got Universal mad, Raekwon in a purple Jag
P.B. in a canteloupe Hummer with commercial tags
Ya'll ask the chicks who wrap the bricks
I'm out to give Harlem, a quick flashback of Rich
I'm blow like C4, burn up B-More
Laying at Cheetah, next day in a G4
Think like a veteran, chopping and measuring
Always got a way, but God got eleven in
Little kids follow me, women, they acknowledge me
New year, new rules, and a new policy
Posta good, Posta hood, Posta real, Posta do what Posta could
P.B. stay blowing a sting
When the girls give me a hug, they all smell the drawer in the mink
Go line for line, dart for dart, heart to heart
We laying on top of charts
See me buggin on Melrose, low top shell toes
Suede addition, U.S. don't sell those
Posta hot, Posta not, did Posta flop?
Please get off of, of Posta cock

[Interlude; Postaboy]
OK? Ya'll little chumps roll out the red carpet
For the Postaboy, man, I got Uncle Rae with me
Raekwon the Chef, is in the building
Might wanna holla!

[Raekwon:]
Catch me at a Balley convention, sweater look, worth the money
Auctioning and buy me a building
Matter fact niggas, might try to bubble in it
You know, the X.T. Click, niggas fell in love with it
Jumping out of Akademic jumpers, Nike pumps, jewelry down
G'ing like Trump, sweetie, you drunk
Position my thoughts, heavy loss
Root for the Maybach, one for your girl, you write it off
With the new color, only six made, we in the world, like
Whatever we rocking, that's on the trade
Whata's the verdict? It's murder, we preserve, niggas
Automatic birds, hang gun hammers, grenades, got words on you
Swerve on you, browsing, all through your housing
Jakes stop me, try to take forty thousand
Playing it kid, you won't make a thousand
Yeah, the Larry Davis version, force to build Shaolin

[Outro: sample]
But now my time, has come
And time, time, is not on you side