| Look…
|
| I’m here to make a mil off of fifteen bricks
|
| I rob for, can’t see me workin’for Job Corps
|
| It’s Gates, dog
|
| A little introduction to me Crack’s D unto himself
|
| Who else fuckin with me?
|
| Who got the shit in a chokehold?
|
| Who gettin that powder?
|
| Who got the candy red 'Pala
|
| sittin with M. Holla?
|
| Its real life and I aint got to act in a flick
|
| or make a skate and play like I’m blackin a bitch
|
| Young’n…
|
| I like the 5, but feel right in the 6
|
| Its more roomy, so I can feel right in your bitch
|
| Shit, I drink Velvey, Henny, and Cris
|
| In the hood they call me can’t-get-right
|
| But I can get right
|
| It aint a ho in harlem that can’t get piped
|
| or any five boroughs
|
| My 9 semi starts trouble
|
| I want y’all to act up Go head and play dumb
|
| Billy Bathgates my name, huh
|
| Nigga, I shot ya
|
| (Yeah…DJ Clue… Desert Storm… fat shout:
|
| my nigga Just Blaze, Enigma, word up) |