Chorus: R-MANN And through the storm and the rain We still together, a few things changed Through the stress and the strife It's LB Fam 4 Life
[Mr. Cheeks] Since '86, man we had the streets hummin Makin power moves and still slummin For real, they better let us come in LB NYG, in front of green Niggas started jackin from the Knicks to the Lakers Us young niggas on mountain bikes, bouncin wall downs Burn the weed in the basement of your parents Hookie parties was the best They tought us niggas how to finesse the fat fatty and the chest Now we into nickel bags, dreams about Cadillacs and Jags We ask the S girls, the sags Play cards for the mingles Hit the avenue for the singles, by the new artist Yo we never knew who God is Yo we ran with the hardest Tell your crew, there's no stoppin them We risin from the bottom to the top again The hot shit, we droppin em
Chorus
[J-Drama] Let's take it back to '94, Lifestyles of the rich we were doin it Made it to '97, on singles still persuadin The flows got harder, hit you with "Love, Peace & Nappiness" Now I can finally say my family is feeling the happiness Even though we lost our brother through the storm and rain Keepin it real to my hood, but now my hood is to blame Still striving is the struggle, trying to hustle New York I'm from Queens South Jamaica, any street that I walk LB Fam, JnJ and Queens Most son NY City slum, got me real close to my gun Protectin my chest, relievin all the stress that's left Told you in the chorus, it's LB Fam to the death Why not, J-Drama, J-U-G-G now, Mike D now, year 2G you gonna see now 2 to 3 now, at the key now, placin D now And at the top of the charts, is where we gonna be now
Chorus
[Jugga] To all my go hearts, livin in mellow and live in the ghetto From Lindon to Bellow, and rebuildin in Trestle Hearin this fellow, affelious mellow to ignorant echo With gun shots, plenty of fenny, each year spillin more henny and mary Shout out 5 shuckin in the rock, back to one twenty Yea the whole south city I got the ghetto in me, livin this movie script life style I aint winnin Hear me, aint no way outta hood, but can't shoot like Penny Block party, park jam and when the rain and lights go out We got the generators Go home on the three illa, mikey whippin cuz he illa Move the bike, kill ya butt, baisley palm is familiar Now you don't wanna go to South zone after 11 You might see the mack and feel the 11 Now you wanna catch the soprano, now the foes the bitch