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Summer In The City

[Chorus: x2]

I am the king of the city, top down windows

I'm Puffin like Diddy

Ridin' cause the haters face mad, team gritty

Honk your horn twice if your misses lookin' prettyWell if you run wit your niggas, then I walk with my killas

Mo you will never have a winning hand, yeah as long as I'm the dealer

What you feelin' (uh) you sure you want some

Brought my slums, cats play like rums

Money in large sums, navigators and guns

Baby mamas wit sons

Ain't afraid to let you have it

If you trip with their loved ones (you tripled your fare)

What I hear most is no, no

You best get on your mark, get set, go, go

Like Jagged Edge I leave ya more Def than So So

Type of person continue short sit in the front row

Get your hands out my pocket

You don't want just blow, blow

The only bird I get wit more is the doe-doe

They be like oh, oh

It's what they screamin' from the back

Hey timber, is when I hit 'em wit the axe

Put ya gun away

And you might live to see another day

Come in head, run and done, bustin' like andale[Chorus: x2]Asked around you got a Range

(Boy I been had wheels)

Aiyyo you think you gotta little change

(Yeah my dirties love me truly)

I remember you use to shoot that thang

(Ya never knew me)

Ya used to claim gangs (uh-huh)Yo, when I rock Vokal its either Timb's or Nike's

When I step in my Prada I'm a rock the ice

When the 'Tics do a show I'm a rock the mic

Born in "New Jack City" like Wesley Snipes

Drive a SS M.C with racing stripes

Runnin two P's of L.G, flip it twice

Hang round with cats who bust and they don't think twice

Nothing but dome shots no coming back twice

All I knew was hustling and rolling the dice

Scraping up dimes for whole-orders of China Men Rice

Now I sacrificed my life for publishing rights

Hoping everything gonna be aightSt. Lunatics at the Superbowl

Top row gettin' super blowed

Rams on the 24 second down two to go

Now we in the Louis tho

It's two below hundred degrees

I'm drivin about 103

With a S.T.L hat on

Top down holdin a blunt

You know I'm smokin wit the windows up

I be the young dude

Chief into kung-fu, with sun-do

Come through, Beenie Man you don't really want to

How come you, think you can

I'm from the city where the muddy Mississippi might

sink you man

I'm getting brains in the Range

With the brains blown out

With TV's, the wood grain and them thangs rolled out[Chorus: x2]It's like a hot day in July

Just bangin when I fool guys

It's the credible, edible, federal when I'm high

On the hills on the lane

64 Chevy the brains

Blown, gone, spread foam, wood, and chrome

How you doin mama my name is Lee

I be the fabulous M.C you heard of

St. Lunatics word up

I'm like "OK", all the sun out

Ice down but I still pull a gun out

Feel that, bow down

It's real rap, verbally peelin cats off da map

Turf shake 16 bars of earthquake

If I do the whole song boom {*booming sound*} it's Vietnam

You see it wrong, so I'ma gone leave you alone

Put my mind back on, who I'ma bone and take home

Got mine, get cha own - grab a cell call Big Tone

Need some Air Max cuz dem boys bobbin like stone, and a[Chorus: x2]Ya ready for this, it's Ced let-me-entertain-ya

Wassup, representing on wax

Talkin on record like P-Diddy

I'm just here hollaring for The Kings of Comedy

You know too sharp Steve Harvey, Bernie B. Mac

Keepin it on the D.L Hugley[Chorus]

Songwriters

JOHN SEBASTIAN, STEVE BOONE, MARK SEBASTIANPublished by

Lyrics © CARLIN AMERICA INC, BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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