Out Of Towner [Produced by Terrace Martin]

Yeah blood, let's take these niggas back to 96,

11th grade when a nigga was walking the Compton High School.

Cincinnati Red fitted snug on my motherf**king forehead.

Nike backpack on, you know like Durant be wearing.

Nike straps tighter than a virgin pussy Illmatic in the Walkman, what?

Sitting on the subway they looking like "who is that? "

The boy gutter all hood New York sewer rat

You can never mace me, where Cuda at?

They love me out in Harlem like a ten dollar buddha sack

I spit that I'll Street Blues, yeah Kool G Rap

But my style is big, where the Coogis at?

I said my style is Big now light a L

As I skip to the next track on Supreme Clientele

Ghost to Manhattan, seat reclined in the Aston

Time for glasses cause NY is into fashion

Madison. Square. Garden. Feeling like Spike Lee's squares, Jordans

You squares ain't important

Fresh to death my gear's in a coffin

Why that nigga coughin'?

Blowing that sour diesel I ain't be here that often

Riding on the A train, listening to Ghostface

I'm just ridin on the A train, listenin to Ghostface

Riding on the A train, listening to Ghostface

I'm just riding on the A train, listening to Ghostface

Pull up in that Derrick Rose hop out number nines or elevens

You niggas is copycats, my style is patent leather

South side of the Chi nigga I ain't packing never

I ain't shy of the Chi, Jay Cutler in cold weather

And all I do is win, 72 and 10

Ball like Mike, Scottie, Dennis Rodman and them

7-4 Chevelle, niggas riding in them

Killers from Cabrini-Green I was riding with them

Pelle jackets niggas out here robbing in them

And even getting coat-jacked ain't Common to him

Keep thinking you Larry Hoover that line'll have you shook

That's that Crack Music nigga forgot I was on the hook

G.D.s, Vice Lords, Four Corner Hustlers

Latin Kings, MCs, all em will f**k with us

Blowing trees like the windy city

Nigga I blow trees in the Windy City

Riding on the L train, listening to Kanye

I'm just riding on the L train, listening to Kanye

I'm just riding in on the L train, listening to Kanye

Said I'm riding on the L train, listening to Kanye

I be in Lil Haiti

First forty eighty

Ain't nothing bout to go down nigga my fam's Zoe Pound

And ever since they locked my nigga Zo down

Everything slow down, but my nigga Ross is on

The homie Khaled put the Boss's on

We blowing orange like the Dolphins home

And we don't floss the chrome

We turn that Wildcat offense on

That New Era fly off ya dome

I'm about to take my talents to South Beach

I don't even go to the games, but got Heat

Ain't no Trickin Daddy, I take a bitch to get some Cuban food

Have a couple mojitos then f**k her like a Cuban do

Riding down Collins in the newest coup

Flo-Rida on the place they think I'm Uncle Luke

Nigga Tony Montana, who the f**k is you?

I'm the all-red side of the Rubik's Cube

Riding in the fast lane, listening to Rozay

I'm just ridin in the fast lane, listening to Rozay

Riding in the fast lane, listening to Rozay

I'm just riding in the fast lane, listening to Rozay