| Yeah, what the deal. |
| This is what y’all niggas been waiting for?
|
| This is what been waiting for huh? |
| That Kasino shit. |
| L.O.X. |
| shit
|
| Oh my God. |
| Flex gonna pump this. |
| Clue gonna pump this
|
| Angie Martinez gonna pump this. |
| Ahhh, oh
|
| Verse One: Sheek Luchion
|
| Yo I don’t toss it when I pop, I just run up in the spot
|
| Pour acid on my Glock and start burying the pot
|
| In the back yard, used to have the dead dog I stuffed with G’s
|
| Tell the cops that he died from fleas
|
| That shit was well planned, but I know when it happens
|
| When the shit hits the fan, and that nigga be your man
|
| And get caught red hand with a half a pelican
|
| What do you do? |
| Don’t stall
|
| Spring him and buy more
|
| It’s the code of the streets
|
| If your belly ain’t the beast
|
| And you ain’t hungry for this cake
|
| How much you expect to make?
|
| When I was young I threw parties and had food fights at school
|
| Whoever came and made it there fresh was cool
|
| So that taught me
|
| I started stealing dean’s walkie-talkies
|
| Five cent a chip
|
| The next month, bought a whip
|
| Something like, Lucy or Rex, next thing you know
|
| I’m getting sex from 9th and up, that’s living it up
|
| Not Donald Trump but what, buying pies for the class
|
| Fifteen buying Hydro in glass
|
| Way back when
|
| Only drinking Gin
|
| Now I’m a Hennessey man, I dealt with many hoes
|
| Used to pump my fist with Arsenio
|
| Player hating niggas that used to rap in all the videos
|
| That needed to be me
|
| My click needed to be G
|
| All up in the game, with bitches riding our train
|
| And I’m pretty sure my nigga Kasino feeling the same
|
| Verse Two: Kasino
|
| Ayo you can’t tell me nothing about doing dirt
|
| Sitting up, six months in the spot, on the block, losing work
|
| I been there, any part of the game you name
|
| I done did it, even after Sledge runs in it
|
| I done copped out, blew trial, done my whole sentence
|
| Went from no dough, 'til the point when the dough don’t grow
|
| Got too big for them little whips, the door won’t close
|
| Got the big truck, bent up, all over the road
|
| Remember little Keith, from P. S. 93 with his brothers clothes
|
| Went from hand me downs, but y’all hear me now
|
| Don’t forget that I’m sober when y’all staring me down
|
| Got a team of hungry niggas, that’s my family now
|
| And they get down, there’s no lace wearing their browns
|
| Went from spitting bangers in the yard, to spitting a round
|
| And yo I promise not to act funny
|
| Loyalty to all them niggas who react for me
|
| Handle my gats for me, but for this rap money
|
| I was three cars deep, and this my pack money
|
| Eating and learning to act hungry
|
| ]From South Cat country, hustling cane
|
| I’m like Denzel with a pencil, he got game
|
| Verse Three: Styles Paniro
|
| If I die, don’t you dare send me flowers
|
| If you ain’t a friend of ours
|
| Cock Sucker, they call me S. P. I don’t blend with cowards
|
| I spit Heroin, make y’all niggas pure dope heads
|
| Like Tony when he went to kill Frank Lopez
|
| Top of the world
|
| Gun cocked, cock in your girl
|
| Blowing the steam
|
| Feels good fulfilling your dream
|
| Using your head, while y’all niggas losing your bread
|
| Watch for snakes in the garden when there’s spiders in the bed
|
| Whether I’m living or dying, nigga I’m Ruff Riding
|
| Leave with two bitches 100 G’s plus iron
|
| Styles spits the shit that’ll have niggas crying
|
| Telling your man what I said, fucking with Dreads
|
| In the 500 I’m blunted, most wanted by Feds
|
| Lock me up, your little ass copied up
|
| Had the whole East Side looking poppied up
|
| Hop in the Porsche
|
| Cranberry frost exhaust
|
| Deep dish 18's
|
| Out of state play things
|
| Ten niggas behind me, we all racing
|
| Eleven left hands with them platinum face things
|
| Busting a left, about the get the truck with the checks
|
| Sending you death for fucking with the Men of Respect
|
| Verse Four: Jadakiss
|
| Y’all think y’all getting a dime of this rap money, you crazy
|
| I’m hungry and I can’t pump no more, I’m lazy
|
| I never did like you, I really don’t know you
|
| And just because I give you a dap, I’ll still blow you
|
| Listen here, we just gonna make one thing clear
|
| You gonna lose two of your mans a month, for a year
|
| Yeah I seen ill niggas slide off broke
|
| That’s why I got incorporated, now I write off coke |
| Burning the hash, keep money, learning the stash
|
| My credit is great, but I buy burners with cash
|
| I’m the nigga that’ll come through and light up an ounce
|
| Y’all the faggots that’ll talk about me as soon as I bounce
|
| All your men are hating me, four door Inf. |
| off white
|
| With the nickels, the chip, and the clear lights
|
| I bear right, bust a U, then hop out with the pump
|
| And make all them niggas empty all their shit in the trunk
|
| Jadakiss in the top 5, dead or alive
|
| Spit bees at a nigga, that’ll give him the hives
|
| Whenever you hear me, it’ll be the flow of the night
|
| Just gimme a light, and lower the Mic
|
| I swear to God, have everybody saying I’m the MC of their choice
|
| Then they’ll remember it was me, raspy voice
|
| Got Clive D, Lyor and Tommy
|
| Trying to buy me
|
| I don’t wanna talk, all y’all do is send me a check
|
| L.O.X. |
| and Kasino be the Men of Respect
|
| Chorus: all
|
| Men of Respect, steal the work, kill the connect
|
| You look dry so we leaving you wet
|
| I don’t care if I’m sentenced to death
|
| I’mma still get dough 'til my very last breath |