| It’s all gasoline |
| Casino dream, fragile chandelier schemes |
| Alligator pits under brass rings |
| That’s not for whom the pendulum swings |
| I start rapping, applause happens, metal things |
| Clapping, fingers snapping, feet tapping |
| Footfalls of the shooter, I’m the glee |
| In the eye of a looter, the grave in your future |
| Or ashes in urns. Once burned |
| Blunts sherm, short-term memory |
| Memento. Anybody I forgot |
| I meant to |
| It’s all gasoline |
| It’s all gasoline |
| It’s all gasoline |
| It’s all gasoline |
| Hit Kuwait with my street team, straight lean |
| Crude barrels crazy full, I’m seeing |
| Green, they’re seeing red, black foes stack |
| Hoes, bodies stole where eyes cold, sold |
| Souls for liquor and gas. Ever since |
| Been busting each other in the back |
| Add heroin and crack-we'll show you how to do that |
| Damn. Sold a million sacks, still got |
| Lint in the naps |
| Same corner you see me at. Yeah, I’m pumping |
| Yackses and trap, but, then again, the whole world |
| Build like that. Answers? |
| You seen what they did to The Panthers |
| And you seen the pigs is in Kansas |
| Tiananmen Square ain’t the place for gangsters |
| The scared kill the weak, and the cops |
| Is right there, run up, put one in your |
| Right ear. It’s all petroleum. Fucked |
| If you play fair, damned if you don’t |
| It’s all gasoline |
| It’s all gasoline |
| It’s all gasoline |
| It’s all gasoline |
| To gods and collard greens, microphone |
| Fiends, it’s a good time to get clean |
| I’m done with triple-beams, ill triple-teams |
| Still triple-double Elohim |
| Spill heavy cream, Afro-Sheen, stonewashed |
| Jewels jeans, cross colors. Still in |
| '91, motherfuckers best get their |
| Big brothers. 12:01, another |
| Sucker born yesterday, swimming with Spalding |
| Gray, still be home from Rap City |
| Fifty-fifty? Now that’s witty. Try |
| Forty-sixty, sitting pretty, fat ass |
| No titties. Why God gotta be so |
| Thrifty? She can still play Misty |
| For Eastwood in a jiffy. Ken Griffey |
| Niggas swinging like Bo, ain’t hit Diddley |
| G’d up with no special delivery |
| Back in front the bodega, I’ll wager |
| With weed in sock, 31 Flavors, and a |
| Broke pager, still broke many a hater |
| Rather laugh now and laugh later |
| He who last laughs probably had a razor |
| Got the shaft of life’s elevators |
| Like them boys out the Qaeda. Good fences |
| Make good neighbors-ask 'em on the West |
| Bank-that extra clip can be a lifesaver |
| Play the back like point-shavers |
| Double or nothing, double-pumping, napalm |
| With diesel, nah’mean? Whatever |
| Jojo, it’s all gasoline |
| (It's all gasoline) |