Slogans - PackFM, Kno, Tonedeff

Now what you know about that crazy new

Baby-blue, label who’s taking you

Five steps ahead of the game, without a change of shoes

Makin moves against the basic music that you’re acquainted to

While changing the rules, hanging them fools, saving the boom-bap

Bang until the name’ll get a boost, like

QN5 Baby!

Check the Asterisk

The last to get mentioned, but always the first with the classic shit

Eclectic & multifaceted

These acts is passionate

With a massive buzz on a tenth of the budget half of these bastards get

These hazardous cats got you pumpin your fist

Because the performance is nothing to miss, when we in the building

We have been building, since Rawkus dropped then suddenly switched

Since Def Jam was just Russel & Rick

We’ve been the illest

Deacon The Villain got God given battle gear

That’s probably cause my King James ain’t a Cavalier

I saddle fear, rodeo it, smash the eight second count

When we cipher watch e’rybody in the session bounce

(QN5)

With beast masters

Disasters just pile on you like Pharaoh in Exodus passages

Inject plagues in it, let death dim it

Then scoop classic groupies

Philly the fly fella with the sky colored shirt

QN5 known to give your bitch an eye full of squirt

Fire for the work, hardly known but far from aimless

I don’t do shit for the love cause at heart I’m famous

Ask Tone, at 17 you could tell I’ll make it

Still ain’t old enough to buy a drink to celebrate with

Sorry to brag but shit I just want some groupies

Skip the name miss, straight to bed, fuck «excuse me»

Mr. Mec' to you

M. City, quickly disrespect your crew

Get busy, twist your neck in two, all that rep the blue

We all exceptional, except for you

Q’s on fraud alert, we see the bitch in you

We exposing you hoes from broad to skirt

You want your jaw to hurt?

Test me while I’m bored at work

I’ll get a break from making hits

Burn your squad to bacon bits

You’re mistake, fakin, mistaking for some lazy cliques

Some loose knit, bunch of bitch cats ain’t who you playing with

It’s still ridiculous

(Dealing with the Q and nickle bitch)

Two thousand triple hits

(Iron curtain, sickle, hammer shit)

Hotter than pistol whips, you sensitive as a nipple tip

Your boys in blue set your crew

Frame the birth certificate

Tight like La Costa Nostra

Mixed in with the soldiers

All on one sofa like «move over!»

Prepare to lose close up trying to tear the jam up

While we signing autographs you still trying to get some hands up

We rep the baby blue, so you know how we do

Q-N-5 is how we do it

And we ain’t never leaving, we trying to break even

Q-N-5, you know we got it baby

You know who the hell it is, with no rich relatives

Q-N-5, you know we on it, ha

There ain’t no one above us

And white women love us

You know we keep it moving

Now you can call yourself a label, press up some CDs

Because you rock the same jersey, you ain’t in the same league

Now get it straight while I demonstrate, how little time it’ll take

My squad to get up in your face and leave you with a bitter taste

I won’t stop till I’m middle aged

Looking like I’m 21

Walking around with a cane, saying «I'll battle anyone!»

Blow up independently, the label of the century

Save on money with the cases from the demo’s that you sent to me

I hate wack producers trying to slander my team

With them faggity loops, word to Elton John’s ear rings

Since you bitch, you might as well switch

Pencil them breasts on your mental and next

Just admit you a fake, the baby blue ain’t hating you

You ain’t running no keys

I don’t see Morpheus chasing you

So I ain’t trying to hear it

You got a shorter projected shelf life than Kobe Bryant’s marriage

Session

Make sure the name is printed

Food for thought, flame is cooking

A shame it’s tooken

This long but now frames get shooken, lames get tooken

And y’all take an L like a subway train in Brooklyn

Not a dame is looking, they sweat us at the shows

Shut up cause we know you trying to get us 'fore we blow

We by the bank paid and your babes and they all pretty

Gotta say the same for The Plague and Varsity

Domingo on the track, spin those under wax

Put the single on the map, turn the singles into stacks

What we bring you is a wrap

I’m a nine and a half but yo

I need a size twenty shoe box to stash my doe

Pardon me a second

You a hard MC?

I’m steppin'

till apologies accepted

To lock us down we gotta be arrested

Who can stop us now?

I’m proud of who I’m repping