Taste of Revenge*

(Hook)
I swear the taste of revenge is more sweeter than honey
I’m on the streets in a Benz, see me getting this money
Can’t forget about my friends, I’m yelling “Free Rummy”
Real nigga for real, and that’s my day Onie!
Ya’ll know, I shine bright when I roll, plot on mines and I blow
Smoke, POW! Here you go! I am not the one, but I’m the one
Troy Ave, New York City, Brooklyn, UNH!

(Verse 1: Troy Ave)
I know this Lil’ chick who reminds me of myself
As far as being a hustler, gettin’ it by herself
Dancin’ in the clubs, sellin’ off some pounds
She even do taxes when the season come around
She had a dream like Martin to get up out the streets
But was saving her bread for 156 weeks
She did everything right, except choose the wrong peeps
And unknowingly shouldering a snake where she sleep, damn!
Pictures on the gram, stacks of money on the dresser
She about to start a business last night as a stripper
Although she thought, got home and got caught
Thieving nigga robbed the crib and left everything tossed
Close, to 72 O’s and all the paper that she stacked switched her to bigger goals
She wondering should she call the cops or fill him up with holes
You know how I be on it, I say that nigga must go! Revenge, what!?

(Hook)

(Verse 2: Troy Ave)
I’m laying with a blonde, like Frankie Sinatra
She did it my way, head over my boxers, yeah
Drawers by Versace, know they match the socks, yeah
I’m just a Young Don, no plate, full of pasta
Shorty Portuguese, I’m importing ki’s
Might go to Monaco, hit Monte Carlo overseas
French Riviera, French toast, never French kiss
Holiday sauce, smoked salmon, eggs benedict
Before we hit the Grand Prix, you know who her man be
A trolling blogger, who don’t know no better than to offend me
For all your columns, who rather hit you with the Semi’
I hit your bitch with this DICK! You bitch nigga, REVENGE!

(Hook)

(Verse 3: Troy Ave)
Ice on my neck, on my waist where the heat at
Looking for these tough niggas “Where the fuck they be at?”
I got plenty shows, plenty more, as I blow up
They ‘posed to be foes where I goes they don’t show up
I guess it’s all talk, rub my dick in they jibbers
You know they type pussy, critters with some Twitters
Body shots will put you on the clock with the shivers
Head shots, you don’t need a doc’ just the diggers
Either ones cool, might take a bat to that fool
Say no comment when they ask about me in an interview
First and last one, I don’t speak twice
Cause you responsible for all your friends who don’t talk nice
Lil’ nigga, you’ve been warned! For your ungratefulness I play you like a pawn
Lil’ old nigga, you’ve been warned! Yeah, I sampled ya voice you was using it wrong!