Released: October 19, 1999
Songwriter: Maxwell Hod David Pharoahe Monch
Producer: Pharoahe Monch
[Chorus]
There's a place I know where the bitches go
Where they rob you for your dough and chill on the low
In Southside...
Queens, Queens
Where if you say, "The Ave"
People automatically know the path
You don't have to do the math
In Southside...
Queens, Queens
[Verse]
I knew this nigga named Donovan
Astonishing, the way he used to handle the pill, God (Word)
Let me speak about the way he used to dribble off his knees
And in the middle, at the same time, guzzling a beer
Like a puzzle or a riddle, discovering his path to the hoop
Scoop, shot, tipped up the backboard, oops
Son got hops, never knew he would've grew it
Cool nigga, when it came to school, he blew it
A scholar in acute nigga-risms and metropolitans
Kids hollering, "Yo, Donovan, hey, come around the block"
Youngest of three sons, fucking with coupons and refunds
Food stamps; still, he was a champ
Time to get loot for boots and kicks now
Fuck hoops, gotta impress the chicks now
His mama said, "Donovan, why are you
On the corner of Linden and Guy R. Brewer?"
He said, "Mama, listen close, I'mma tell you one time
You're killing my high, plus, I got a nine" (What?)
"All I be doing is putting in work
So you can get a brand new dress for church
I know the Devil lurks outside, man, it's cold
But I don't wanna get paid slow and grow old like Papa
Plus I'm on parole, I got-ta
Get paid off the streets to make ends meet"
With the back of her hand, she smacked him in the face
Walked out of the crib-piece, pissed with no chase
That night, rocking Nikes, eating Mike and Ikes
Slapboxing with a dyke on a bike too small
Thinking, "This time, next year, Mama be able to—Ohh, shit!"
From across the streets, niggas approach (Slow)
Well, get the metal out, too late, the guns flash
In the melee, they wet him like Reggae Sunsplash
Son dashed with the quickness, back into the ride
With a smile on his face, the picture of pride
Blood coming from his mouth; now, I'm at his side
Kneeling over Donovan's body before he died
Eyes fluttering up and down in his head
And with his last breath, this is what he said
He said, "Why?
Why?"
Then I closed his eyes
[Chorus]
There's a place I know where the people go
Where you could catch dough and chill on the low
In Southside... Haha
Queens, Queens
Where if you say, "The Ave"
People automatically know the path
You don't have to do the math
In Southside...
Queens, Queens
And if you got a Glock, you could bust shots
Like Todd Scott, when the block be hot
In—In—In— (What we talking 'bout?)
Queens, Queens
[Outro]
Ugh, c'mon, ugh
C'mon, ugh, ugh
It's New York, right?
I know where people go
Where you can cash dough and chill on the low
There's a place I know where the bitches go
Where they rob you for your dough and chill on the low
In Southside...
Queens, Queens
Where if you say, "The Ave"
People automatically know the path
You don't have to do the math
In Southside...
Queens, Queens
[Verse]
I knew this nigga named Donovan
Astonishing, the way he used to handle the pill, God (Word)
Let me speak about the way he used to dribble off his knees
And in the middle, at the same time, guzzling a beer
Like a puzzle or a riddle, discovering his path to the hoop
Scoop, shot, tipped up the backboard, oops
Son got hops, never knew he would've grew it
Cool nigga, when it came to school, he blew it
A scholar in acute nigga-risms and metropolitans
Kids hollering, "Yo, Donovan, hey, come around the block"
Youngest of three sons, fucking with coupons and refunds
Food stamps; still, he was a champ
Time to get loot for boots and kicks now
Fuck hoops, gotta impress the chicks now
His mama said, "Donovan, why are you
On the corner of Linden and Guy R. Brewer?"
He said, "Mama, listen close, I'mma tell you one time
You're killing my high, plus, I got a nine" (What?)
"All I be doing is putting in work
So you can get a brand new dress for church
I know the Devil lurks outside, man, it's cold
But I don't wanna get paid slow and grow old like Papa
Plus I'm on parole, I got-ta
Get paid off the streets to make ends meet"
With the back of her hand, she smacked him in the face
Walked out of the crib-piece, pissed with no chase
That night, rocking Nikes, eating Mike and Ikes
Slapboxing with a dyke on a bike too small
Thinking, "This time, next year, Mama be able to—Ohh, shit!"
From across the streets, niggas approach (Slow)
Well, get the metal out, too late, the guns flash
In the melee, they wet him like Reggae Sunsplash
Son dashed with the quickness, back into the ride
With a smile on his face, the picture of pride
Blood coming from his mouth; now, I'm at his side
Kneeling over Donovan's body before he died
Eyes fluttering up and down in his head
And with his last breath, this is what he said
He said, "Why?
Why?"
Then I closed his eyes
[Chorus]
There's a place I know where the people go
Where you could catch dough and chill on the low
In Southside... Haha
Queens, Queens
Where if you say, "The Ave"
People automatically know the path
You don't have to do the math
In Southside...
Queens, Queens
And if you got a Glock, you could bust shots
Like Todd Scott, when the block be hot
In—In—In— (What we talking 'bout?)
Queens, Queens
[Outro]
Ugh, c'mon, ugh
C'mon, ugh, ugh
It's New York, right?
I know where people go
Where you can cash dough and chill on the low