| Yeah, baby
|
| You know what it is, Yap City (All day)
|
| Shit make you wanna smack somethin' off top
|
| Word up, check it
|
| Yeah, y’all niggas is goin' to hell, yo
|
| I pledge allegiance to crime, right hand on the burner
|
| Death to all cornball niggas who wanna turn up
|
| I call it gettin' it in, you call it animosity
|
| Listen, you could never match my velocity
|
| Too much stamina, glitter in front of cameras
|
| On the red carpet, still clean your clock like a janitor
|
| Favorite Pac joint was «I Ain’t Mad at Cha»
|
| Skinny jean faggot, you ain’t man enough
|
| You ain’t got the heart to snuff plus cut, stab, or bust
|
| We wrestle down elephants, two hundred grand per tusk
|
| The ball spinnin', spillin' Spades on Asian women
|
| Love them pretty black joints, lil' Malaysian in 'em
|
| Ghost got a gambling habit, I burn bookies
|
| Smack so many promoters out here, they scared to book me
|
| Scared to book niggas, your highness
|
| Diamonds on the Yankee sign, dirt on the camo
|
| Six stones floodin' the left hand like Thanos
|
| While you sambos dance to Bo Jangles
|
| I’m verified, toasting on boats with hoes, damsels
|
| Yeah, son, I’m loving the hate
|
| Why I keep a knife on me, so I’m sure to get a cut of the cake
|
| Now my name hold double the weight
|
| That’s an actual fact, a million plus motherfuckers relate, yeah
|
| I’m on them heavy bags like Deontay
|
| And I’m wild caught, y’all niggas farm-raised
|
| For 50 Cent, I went to war with many men
|
| Then slapped them with the jacket like Benny Hinn
|
| I’m hittin' that jet fuel, you’re new in the game, lame
|
| You’ll never use Deck for a step stool
|
| They don’t wanna hear that shit, they want Dorothy
|
| Fire comin' out of my mouth, that’s an arsony
|
| I’m so hood, tossed the nine when I left it
|
| Rubber bands wrapped around my thoughts the more I stretch it
|
| When it come back, I pop that sucker shit
|
| I smoke blunts and I spit on that rhetoric
|
| Original ties in, SI gutter
|
| Let’s get it right, fuck you and your brother
|
| My raps in the back of your head like two mufflers
|
| So pull your dress up, your ass ain’t tough enough
|
| Niggas cuddle up with the wife, they can’t come out
|
| I be at the club all night, I might dumb out
|
| You fuck around with big dawgs, ain’t no bark here
|
| Fuck you and your friends, nigga, you can’t park here
|
| My sword indeed make more niggas bleed
|
| Leave it to the specialists, we mean business
|
| Come and get some, you want none
|
| I hit it Wu-Tang style, caught up in the mix
|
| (Wu-Tang style, caught up in the mix) |