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Dipset Symphony
The Diplomats feat. Juelz Santana, Mim Jones, Hell Rell, J.R. Writer, 40 Cal. & Un Kasa
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Lyrics
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I don't give a fuck who's first or who's last
The Dipset is gonna rock this shit out at a drop of a brick, nigga
I don't care what y'all say, I don't care what y'all do
But y'all better rep Harlem until the god-damned music is through
Mister Cee, let's go
All eyes on the honorable, who?
Dipset, back to the grill again, live at the barbecue
Beefs on, all my kids ride like a carnival
Heat's drawn, all you kids lie, like carpet do
Get up and get ready, what up? The kids ready
Now that I'm back, the game is fucked, the bitch let me
You front, you stunt, you get heat, clown
Yeah, punks jump up, to get beat down
Now eight years ago, I played the bench with dimes (where you at, baby? Where you at?)
Everybody in my park was getting bent off dimes
Pitchin' packs on the block, tryin' to get us some sneakers
Sippin' yak, Henny, rock, puffin' nickels of reefer (for my niggas)
I'm pumpin' on the strip, in the midst of the drug trade (what?)
I'm watching for the blitz in the midst of the drug raid
For niggas gotta eat, it's like my stomach is touching back (I'm hungry)
New York's rider man, for you suckers I'm fuckin' back (yeah, ha I rock this one, ha)
Now, can I kick it? Yes, I can
They wanna know if I'm G'd up, yes, I am
Look, I overpaid my dues, I almost made the news
The block kinda hot but the cocaine gon' move (yeah)
If I was a brick, you wouldn't know what to do with me (no)
You'd probably cook me up, get a stem, and start using me
Nobody built me, I made myself
And you don't know how to shoot guns, you'd graze yourself (uh, yeah)
I was a fiend (fiend), before I became a teen (teen)
It was dreams, toss for the latest beams
Made me cream 'cause hey, they kept the powder in the tray
Way before it was Maybelline (whoa)
I'm into major stacks, major stats, hate on that
Cam', holla 'cause I'm gonna bring his label plaques
That ain't made of plat', whoa, your jewelry ain't gold
You cop your jewelry from Hov, they all fade to black
When I was nine years old, I realized who was the road
At the end, I cop a Benz when I chop some O's, 40
Smokin' lye, optimoz, poppin' mo's, we both shoppin'
Difference is you coppin' clothes
I'll show you how to drop a Rolls
Whether a Phantom or a flower, I'm a killer like Jaffi Joe
I'm from where they made the cocky flow
While hos puck up on my stick, like you trying to hit a hockey goal
I keep a .9 in my dresser (dresser), lyrical professor ('fessor)
Keep you under pressure (pressure), ain't a nigga better (better)
Mind like a computer, sick shooters
Yo, your fam goin' to war with six shooters?
I bone bitches with coupes and big hooters
Give head, and piff Buddha, pump bricks and sip 'Lรบa
How you hard? You runnin' with state troopers
My niggas is straight shooters, cock back, and straight shoot you
Not in my book, never that, nigga
I'll ask y'all niggas to go 'til the motherfuckin' beat stops
When I had the Dipset right, I had Juelz Santana, Jim Jones
Hell Rell, JR Writer, 40 Cal, Un Kasa, Dipset forever, nigga
Mister Cee signin' off, Duke Da God
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