moms, you know your daughter She goin be my wife and have my son So young and dumb still I'm dreamin To make love to ya and make your body hush And even
daughter bring forth me son The loving for eachother woman it just can't done Give the Rastaman your lovin Rastaman will never shun No heathen nah ride and
and you and a family with lots of love hopes and dreams and a palace big enough for a king and a queen and ima sail that ocean til i find and peace
, we'll cop a place we can bunk And meet my boy in the mornin' For details and hook-up You better count your money Ghetto cowboy Rise and shine, good
easy Queens Day Cash made on Hollis Ave Queens, queens, queens Some come out of their hometown and they never get dough But three teens from queens take over the world and
, for you to prevent this The 40, cal'll put you up under some photosynthesis At any given instant another incident You just got a glimpse of Obie and Yay's temperament And
might see em round the city and won't even say wassup when n-ggas play tough, wont even smile in mirrors and we learn to f-ck hoes off trial and error
Christopher Wallace now Christopher Rios Me and pun drunk, and smoked out I used to go to his crib and visit his kids He used to make his daughter and his son
get popped, some die, some heal (some heal) Some get knocked, some hide and some real (Some even bust shots, some live, some kill) (But that's gutter where Ka and
nevertheless it was water my conversation caught her Some daddy?s daughter and my mama?s son Said, I?m ace de uno and I do know how to have fun I comes
love dont let a nigga make you feel intimidated take a look in the mirror and see what you become a damn good mother to your daughterer and your son stand up and
and she lets 'em show Little bitty queen dancin' on the floor High heeled shoes keep her right on time Body makes a little boy lose his mind And she
and torture, sex of the 90's Mass murders and random violence, when the living become the dead Father killing mother, daughter, son suicide pact Butchers
, we'll cop a place we can bunk And meet my boy in the mornin' for details and hook-up You better count your money, ghetto cowboy Rise and shine, good
livin' with him Yeah he cooks and sews and cleans up the place he cuts my hair and shaves my face And irons my shirts better than a daughter could do And
these mornings to wake up and find Your face on a pillow lying right next to mine I woulda cut out the partying and the smoking and the rum And buss a extra wine and
it nice and wet Please don't get upset, the fun just begun Wanna want a job done, will you make me a son? Will you make me a daughter? Do I need to pump
for you to prevent this The 40 cal'll put you up under some photosynthesis At any given instant another incident You just got a glimpse of Obie and Yay's temperament And