| You know I really don’t get it
|
| Motherfuckers
|
| Act like they want me in the game one minute
|
| Out the game the next minute
|
| Fuck do ya’ll want?
|
| First you want me in
|
| Then you want me out
|
| (Ya'll niggas is too fickle) First you want me in
|
| Then you want me out
|
| You a hop, skip, and a jump
|
| From poppin' shit to the one
|
| Ridin' the dick of the one
|
| Who rides sick wit' a young
|
| Fly chick and a gun
|
| Inside the whip when he come
|
| Shine lyrically dope
|
| My ability stroke the Todd Bridges at those
|
| A fly mix with a toast
|
| Of my niggas who jump (jump!)
|
| From my side to run in with my enemies (punks!)
|
| Keep on temptin' me
|
| I’m just a hop, skip and a jump
|
| From goin' ballistic, so nigga go and diss if you want
|
| Go and mention me homie, you gon' eventually jump
|
| You gon' switch when it comes to that chrome click
|
| And then one of your own hit
|
| You just a hop, skip and a jump (jump!)
|
| From not listenin' to me like my shit don’t exist
|
| Til I spit and you jump back on the dick of the one
|
| Accurate wit' a gun
|
| Mathematician wit' funds
|
| Minus a fifth of that rum
|
| Divide it with the hunger
|
| Times it with the times you fronted on my shit, on my dick
|
| If one of them lines stick to your brain
|
| You now witness the pain
|
| Of my addition of rain
|
| The sun without the distance between
|
| None of what God gave you
|
| The shade is now taken away, today
|
| Do you want me in?
|
| Do you want me out?
|
| (Just like pussy)
|
| (You remind me of a cunt)
|
| Do you want me in?
|
| Do you want me out?
|
| I’m just as underground as it gets
|
| You can come down in this ditch
|
| I’m hidden a mile deep
|
| The mummy without stitchin' but I don’t sleep, I pump
|
| Without snitchin, I’m simply about gettin' this money
|
| I don’t just dive in to what would be my end if I jump
|
| The politics of this game
|
| Niggas be followin' names
|
| They ride with who the hottest, and criticizin' the same
|
| You lil' Nas’s and Jay-Z's, we got on the scene
|
| Not only make me wait for the remix, but sick
|
| Make me squeamish
|
| Make me think later that one of ya’ll can be who the fake king is
|
| One of ya’ll can be on the good label of Push
|
| Five mics in the Source cuz of who pulled a favor
|
| Arrogant as a fuck, and you may have been just as humble
|
| To now fussin' bout who, sharin' the cover this month
|
| Man please
|
| This nigga’s diseased comin' wit' better throwaway rhymes
|
| Then every one of your keepers, punks (punks!)
|
| Do you listen at all?
|
| It’s fools that’s winnin battles bought by the label, on cable
|
| And never gettin' the call
|
| Ten tapes at a time, you send it off to the label
|
| And wait at the mailbox
|
| While they make up they minds
|
| Do you want me in? |
| (Yeah)
|
| Do you want me out?
|
| (Ya'll try me, knowin' that ya’ll niggas is punks)
|
| First you want me in
|
| Then you want me out
|
| (Yeah!)
|
| (Is this what you want?) |