[Tommy Whispers] You fucking wit me? It's Whispy, crispy Bill Bixbies Money green, money machine, and spit fifties No Good Times, No Happy Days, this ain't the sixties Three chickens giving me head, I call 'em six knees Bitch please, adjusting your lips, to do that dick squeeze Ripley's Believe it or Not, I'm out to grip g's Swiss cheese, holding your head, I'm bout to flip these Spread something like a disease, until you dead Bad karma, that's what the man above said Grab armor, don't let your friendship break bread It'll starve ya, niggas a rob you out your threads Burn you, the pillars pop you full of lead That's why, I just went from my toes, moving my legs It's the, code of the streets, the silence, they call me Whispers Mister, prefer to be called before you kissed her Barrel of the 12-gauge gun, long triggers
[Chorus 2X: Tommy Whispers] Mask, hoodies, guns, gloves Violent music, you pulling tricks in the club Drugs, niggas get drunk become thugs Now momma gotta cry, son took by a slug
[Tommy Whispers] A cup of Henny got him thinking he Rambo wit a semi Til them things backfire, and hit him, in his skelly Deadly, the way that we live, dodging a Chevy Narco's, they guns out drawn, they calling backup Three Crown Victorias ready, here comes the black truck Wit folders, we telling you dummy, to put the crack up Got snatched up, knowing we got hammers in the park We broke the balcony lights, why the fuck you think it's dark It's war, it's beef, it ain't safe in the streets No kid should be playing outside, go to sleep It's dangerous, shut the block down for a week Babe hoodies, cover our face, we on the creep Bullies, we take ya lunch money, you can't eat It's T.M.F., criminal ground, we run deep Staten Isle, Stapleton live on Broad Street Ten thirty four zip code, we toss heat
[Hook 3X: Tommy Whispers] Staten, Island, niggas be wilding And all we respect, is nothing but violence
