| GO TO SLEEP, hoe to sleep, GO TO SLEEP, hoe to sleep | 
| IF YOU’RE TIRED BE QUIET AND GO TO SLEEP, hoe to sleep | 
| Maaan, I tell a hoe to go to sleep (go to sleep) | 
| They turn around and frown, gotta make 'em six feet deep | 
| 'Cause we knock 'em unconscious with that non-sense | 
| Read inbetween that fine print, think about lyrical con-tent | 
| Then about where your time spent | 
| Mess around get your guys hit; | 
| a ten HUUUT! | 
| I send Three-Six ol' sheeyit, nigga WHAAAT? | 
| If ya tired ya tired, if ya snooze ya lose | 
| But’chu you won’t wrap up ya bandages, or hell you would | 
| Nigga I got shotty’s and semi’s — I love 'dro and Henne'? | 
| All brown and skinny, but I’ve fucked up so many | 
| I got QP’s and halves — if we beefin' I blast | 
| You sleepin' I laugh, ask Tit (Titi boi), I’m off the rip | 
| I had this hoe who talked too much; | 
| I had to off the bitch | 
| 2−0, Mr. Crayola; | 
| niggas know what I mean | 
| 'Cause I slang brown, white, yellow, purple and green | 
| And all you faggot-muthafuckas gotta know the routine | 
| Bitch it’s me again, kickin' in your fuckin' doors | 
| I look for div-idends — I ain’t lookin' for you hoes | 
| You bitch can’t com-prehend; | 
| let me put one in ya bro | 
| Let me put one in ya bro, so you niggas can go to sleep | 
| So, lay down bitch; | 
| gimme all that you dreamed for | 
| Gimme fancy cars, gimme bling-bling-bling, boi | 
| It don’t mean a thing, boi, for me that ain’t gon' swing, boi | 
| Them god damn toys; | 
| do you know what I mean, boi? | 
| Now if you warrin' and runnin' from them Three-Six niggas | 
| This forty-five gon' give a reason to sleep, nigga | 
| Or bustin' massive 'round some S. K | 
| My last trip to A-T-L I fucked yo' cascade | 
| I’m strippin' bitches and I’ma ball fucker with a limp | 
| They call me infer-stripper, sexy, red hoe’s pimp | 
| And quick to sink her on the nigga 'cause this what it’s 'bout | 
| We rob that trick and stick his dick off in his fuckin' mouth | 
| We Memphis niggas | 
| North, north, south, south, Westwood, Orange Mound | 
| Nigga we be smokin' lite; | 
| never Cha Cha Charlie Brown | 
| Memphis niggas in this bitch; | 
| pockets full, ya know we bail | 
| Hooked up with my nigga 'Cris, then we head to A-T-L | 
| Playas wild, throwin' bows, tellin' chickens, «Fuck you hoe!» | 
| Niggas rollin' Optimo, snortin' that white shit up they nose | 
| Mayne this town is like my town, so we stayed and hung around | 
| Juicy J be high as fuck; | 
| catch me in the lost and found | 
| Better use common sense checkin' me out for bitch I can stand for | 
| And up, get yaself in this clique | 
| Without my tongue licks, behind me gettin' handcuffed by a slut | 
| Look, I’m from Gittero what? | 
| Southside niggas throw it up when it’s time to get buck | 
| Niggas in the back of the club postin' up | 
| Waitin' for a nigga that’s new to make it up | 
| As in, ain’t no askin'; | 
| it’s no tolerance as long bitch check in | 
| She wit' me, comments will only get’chu basically eternally resting | 
| So abide by the code of the streets | 
| If ya got a bitch better keep her on a leash | 
| Cuz Lil' Fate gonna creep in ya home while you gone | 
| Have you comin' back findin' nutt on yo' sheets |