Image for the poem Grenade


Sugar Hill Estates
Noho Manhattan

My Queen how does it feel to be legit
You know I never did eat where I piss
Send word out to the Cartels
Come correct with that pure cut, or I will see them all to hell
Make sure you strap up
Those boy’s toys are hard cut
And I need my crew’s eyes when we float down in the dirty South
Shoot anyone who gives you any mouth
Gee, who do we know in those parts we can trust
My Queen, no one, the last time, we thought we were on the up and up, you caught one of their bucks  
We need to silence those thugs, and somehow lift their shit
Then plug their assess and leave my calling card in their palms, after the hit
We burn everything, where even a dental sheet can't tell the coroner if it was a clit or a dick  

Yeah, peep this, my Queen, we also need to take care of any future threats, we need the connect at the top
I feel you Gee, we get to him first, even if he is protected by a cop
We sneak up on his trap house, pistol whip his boys for his cash
Washboarding his ass until he gives up his connect and all his dope stash  
The boys in the Bronx need their product transported in the AM
Negative, that, mission sounds to me like a set up Gee, and its either us or them
And before I let another bullet penetrate me
I flow low at night to travel with ease  
Gee, I need you get on the line
And see who in City Hall silence can be bought, I did not buy ninety kilos to transport for federal time
And keep that shit Ebonics when you speak sublime
My Queen, what about that fake ass poser talking all that shit behind our crew’s back
Him and that old batalack
Do not worry, I heard their time is on lock by a get this, Gee, a cat
Who? Sweet Kitty.. her right
Yeah, that’s the bitch, she did a stent with one of my boys, he said she ain't fucking wrapped too tight
In the joint he said she would bring contraband bullets to a cell fight
Shacking those Aryan Nation boys, taking them all out, she gets this Queen's respect, yet
If she crosses me, she will get straight dealt
They don’t make loyal hoes like her no mo
Yeah, my Queen, its best you a peep on her, word on the streets, she trying to take over Harlem and Chinatown
Do I look like I’m frazzled, revenge is the ultimate high when I take a body down
Cement to their shoes, silence is the golden sound
I need you to set up a meeting with her, I need to know what’s floating inside in that pretty head
If her dialect is to my liking, the bitch will be on my payroll, aiming and pumping lead
I heard that hoe been trying to cash in on my name, with that fake, lame, kitty cat game
Let’s see if she is worth the hype
If not, then what, my Queen, she is considered a menace, one of those deadly type
Just know we won't be sitting around smoking a peace pipe
We pimp her ass, to sell our dope
No one infiltrates me and stick around to gloat
Oh, Gee, welcome to the Big Apple, we sitting at the head table now, it's time we get paid
Anybody get in our way, a casket is where their bloody hacked up body will be laid

Done, my Queen, let me move out on this..  
Oh, shit Gee...word of advice, keep your head up and we get a pass from any Blood or Crip
Since we are in New York make sure your steel is always in your hand
Watch your back Gee, life here is a bitch and niggas fall under when they don't shoot or demand  
You my right hand man, and trust no one where you shit or stand
Word Up
Ashes to ashes dust to dust, my crew leave in body bags not handcuffs
Written by The_Nun_Runner
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