Up in Harlem - Max B, Jim Jones

Jim Jones: what?

Yeah that was me

Shit.

That’s my gang

Now we balling on you niggas

Harlem stand up

Different strokes nigga

Rags to riches on you niggas

What you say sucka?

You know where we from nigga?

We from that Harlem place man

This where all the swag come from

Dope lines, fiends sniffing coke lines

Crack sales, trying to avoid a packed jail

A major hustle, knowing that the jakes’ll cuff you

Life’s a bitch, and ain’t no way to make her love you

Abandoned buildings, shoot-ups and the random killings

If you hoop, well you might got a break

I was enticed by the coupes, loving them

All night on the stoop, you see my life is like a race?

Fucked up ain’t it?

yeah i had a big willy dream

Tying to get a mill moving krill’s to the fiends

In front the building you can hear the sireens

Getting warm in the lobby chilly chilly, nah mean?

But i got caught up in my tracks, i got caught up on the trap

Well i’m back motherfucker in something sporty and black

I did two shows and i bought it off racks.

cocksucker.

This for my little niggas, that ride for the ends

To my niggas that getting money driving a benz

I was live on the streets, i’d die for my men

If get started from the beginning i’m riding again

I be always in the hood sending bitches to heaven

If you come to Harlem you can find me on

I don’t just play on the airs i live on the

Kill a nigga over my money but never a bitch

I double back, see

We double plaq, chinchilla in the jeep

It’s Byrdgang, Biggaveli baby we the street’s

You a little indian boy, baby we the chiefs

My momma gave me the grief had her getting high

Welfare first of the month barely getting by

Pot of milk, sugar & water rarely getting by