Scram Jones - Cigar Smoke lyrics

[Intro] Just let the pain out Baby! When I'm in it she screams my name out Tr-oy Av-e (One two One two) B$B sh**, Brooklyn, Real Life [Verse 1: Troy Ave] I got this burning desire to be better than most That's probably the main reason I'm on the come up like spokes See me in magazines, Modeling for liquor and smoke But I keep a magazine, Confused that pretty sh** and get smoked I'm not the one to provoke I don't make sense I just reach Was given the world by my moms, Still I took to the streets Where heart beats get shorten, The main focus is ballin Had many gambles with life, And every time I was all in My style, Was never determined by mics in the Source Been fly since dollar fries with ketchup and hot sauce I used to cut my wings up Then I f**ed my dreams up No NFL,.. Still cuttingwings up Bird a** n***as there's no relation I cannot consider you real if you ever was hating Unless your team playing You might call Bron a bum but you ain't really mean it You just mad cause he dropped 40 on Brooklyn I seen it And felt the same way Once I got up out my feelings still had to sling ye Them seats ain't cheap Win or lose still struggle, Mickey Mantle don't love you So I fistaled out the Bronx Fishscale for my hustle, Muf**as [Hook] Just let the pain out When I'm in it she screams my name out Tr-oy Av-e B$B sh**, Brooklyn [Verse 2: King Sevin] Ayo! This my New York life Getting money underneath the city lights I put food on that table, Every motherf**in night They say you living fast you eventually die slow It don't matter when you get it in bulk like Cosco Ain't taking no losses I creep on the block slow Any type of sudden movement I'm letting them shots go At these fake real n***as I don't play them fair Cause they been there since before I had facial hair I ride through, And all I get is facial stares Let a n***a try it he gone have to get his face repaired Yeah, that's how a n***a on it Ask me, "What it's looking like?" I'm a tell you I can't call it Though I ain't living right so I say my prayers every morning Thanking God for this fly sh** and n***a be important In it for the moment, s**afree and staying humble When you out here in this concrete jungle Word UP [Hook] [Verse 3: Troy Ave] BSB Records, The future is here I'm the only n***a not spitting chuck sh** in your ear You can verify all my raps, double check and be clear "Did you really tote all them gats and deal crack?" Hell yeah Don't forget about my woman They all fine and on deck I only drink Cristal or Imperial Moet No more weak a** Rose, That's why the game too sweet We don't wear tight a** clothes We don't do down south beats That ain't New York, I restore our identification Cause dickriding never been a form of transportation That ain't New York, I restore our identification Cause dickriding never been a form of transportation [Outro]