| «To attack without knowing the enemy’s strength is foolish | 
| And after being warned, to still attack, is stupid | 
| People who are that stupid just don’t deserve to live | 
| But strangely though, one does find, people who are that stupid.» | 
| Pop that trunk, get the K nigga | 
| Get to sprayin nigga, get the pump nigga | 
| Come — RIGHT BACK; | 
| dump on a nigga | 
| Give him what he want if he want we’ll hunt for 'em all | 
| He’ll be — RIGHT BACK; | 
| it’s got to be like that | 
| Expect niggas not to respect you, kill him | 
| And get it — RIGHT BACK | 
| For those that don’t know me | 
| Allow me to reintroduce myself | 
| My name is 5−9 nigga bottom line is | 
| Bye-bye if you out of line wit him | 
| Itemize y’all deaths in, chronological order | 
| Those either gon' support him or idolize | 
| All you could do is try to dodge me | 
| While you plottin my demise while I’m tryna rise now we got a problem | 
| Cause if I’m surrounded, I’m known | 
| To pull out the pound and shoot, get on the phone | 
| And still come — RIGHT BACK — wit a army of dudes | 
| It’s all true, just armed with Uzis lookin to resolve this | 
| Good Lord, can you hear him callin? | 
| They just still ballin, they feelin lawless, we kill 'em all | 
| If it costs too much, we hun-ga-ry | 
| It means if you floss too much your gums’ll bleed | 
| That’s why I don’t talk with chumps, I was taught to thump | 
| My way to 21 'til I was taught to come — RIGHT BACK | 
| For those who don’t know | 
| Allow me to reintroduce myself | 
| My name is Juan Corleone | 
| Die real soft, fire in a while then he blow | 
| While you niggas act raw with your dawgs | 
| 'til revolvers gettin drawn, splash markin the walls | 
| I don’t know but I’m givin it to 'em | 
| Hittin 'em brutally with them Uzis man really amusin | 
| How niggas duckin, divin, hollerin, hidin under shit | 
| Bullets bustin, bruisin they body, barely bouncin shit | 
| Like, why you lookin at me smirkin nigga? | 
| I got a short man complex, murk a nigga | 
| Bigger than me, taller than me, my squad in the league | 
| I ride slow ballin for sheez, all of you plead | 
| Who wanna test? | 
| Keep scrutinize you and your guys | 
| Two of them nines, better shoot them now 'less you wanna die | 
| I’m stupid high, Lord super sized blessin the dome | 
| Huggin some long John Wayne shit, fuck is you on? | 
| We comin. | 
| (Man hell naw, that’s Royce) Right, what’s up wit it? | 
| (Whattup nigga, where you been?) I been callin you | 
| Somethin must be wrong with your phone right? | 
| (Yeah, yeah, no, yeah) | 
| Ohh okay, what’s up, you got that for me? | 
| (Naw, yeah, naw) | 
| Naw? | 
| Alright well, I’mma get up outta here | 
| Cause I see you havin fun with your people (Nah shut up man) | 
| Your man he’s a funny guy and all that (Yo hold up) | 
| I’mma see you later (Hold up Royce, hold on) | 
| For those that don’t know me | 
| Allow me to reintroduce myself | 
| My name is yeah, Kid Vishis | 
| That sick shit, listen, I hit henchmen | 
| From shotgun wit a shotgun, surprised when pellets flyin | 
| And niggas that was hatin us dyin | 
| Roll with them Chaldeans that get mad if you call them an A-rab | 
| You might get stabbed for your antics | 
| Stay rude shooters with Rugers, put the block-a | 
| Out the windows guns cocked screamin out «Erub Khaba!» | 
| All races are frown faces with heated ways (yeah!) | 
| With somethin in the trunk that thumpin just like bass | 
| Trust me, no mics, this shit gon' get ugly | 
| Before the boys cuff me, «take that» like Puffy | 
| You’ve been hexed, squeeze this Tec | 
| Shots hittin jugular veins, give 'em taco necks | 
| I rep my set, Rock City, what you bet? | 
| M.I.C. | 
| regardless, you garbage niggas, we comin |