| I’m on some New York shit, to the Max so wavy
|
| And i hustle hard like my name Maino or 80
|
| Though i’m my moms first baby, Roc-A-Fella did raise me
|
| She said i was a Bad Boy, but now i’m more like Jay Z
|
| During Reasonable Doubt i went the independent route
|
| Now i’m the big poppa that the industry talk 'bout
|
| Coogi sweaters and all, praise God and my faith
|
| Free to GS9 i hope them niggas beat up that case
|
| I’m still gettin' mine, young and cocky
|
| I’ma be the king ASAP, no Rocky
|
| Unless we talk about my jewellery, the wrist and my neck on glitter
|
| Me and Block was coke boys before French Montana
|
| R.I.P. |
| Chinx, ya boy about to bring in the bricks
|
| A city on lock, Raekwon and Ghost, Cuban my links
|
| Them is O.G.'s man i might be the youngest O. G
|
| Right after Fab, that’s family, luck 'til i’m
|
| In this soil i was raised to be loyal
|
| My squad are several, my pockets don’t go though
|
| Might flip the mode, put my Porche on auto
|
| It’s gon' be a ruff rydin' like X, where my dawgs go
|
| This one here fo' fo', nigga even think
|
| That will be a hit, should’ve signed to Murder Inc
|
| Or maybe GMG, Uncle Murda what you think
|
| My whole set dip down in different color minks
|
| Jewels and the gems, shining like a motherfucker
|
| Standin' in front of the cam, lining like a motherfucker
|
| We don’t Mobb Deep, but i rock with P and Hav
|
| Guess some d on the block that thing went fast
|
| Countin' up the Louch, stylin' like P
|
| Now ima MCM, hoes tryna kiss me
|
| A nigga on the run like N.O.R.E
|
| We the breaking news, CNN, BSB Records nigga
|
| And you see us out here hoopin'
|
| Free B-Loved and Bang they ain’t do that shooting
|
| But i’m a gun clapper, Yayo weighing bagger
|
| With mad Bucks in the Banks, Fifty my favorite rapper
|
| I got one milli, now i’m tryna get two
|
| Put rocks on any block, watch the fiends fall through
|
| Never been caught, God bless we know we had to choose
|
| Somehow the flow is sick, so sick i just flew
|
| In from out of town, they always sayin'
|
| We don’t fuck with New York rappers, you the one that we playin'
|
| The South said they jackin' our slang, that shit wack
|
| Seeing that fuck 12 now every line is a trap
|
| A lame from Texas was sippin' lean tryna be Future
|
| If it wasn’t for you, your city wouldn’t have a future
|
| L.A. say Kendrick got God, but Troy be spittin'
|
| You tell stories like Nas when It Was Written
|
| Chicago said niggas wanna bang like us
|
| Now it’s blown up, come on dawg enough is enough
|
| Who held it down when niggas was licking Westcoast dick
|
| But tryna sound like Atlanta desperate for a hit, record
|
| I’m on record saying I don’t respect it
|
| I’m just splittin' image they way I record on my records
|
| You guessed it the young king hails from New York City
|
| I fuck with YG cause he look and sound like his bity
|
| Migos, Gucci and Thug got that country bass
|
| If it ain’t from Chi-Raq then that drill don’t count
|
| If you a swagger-jacker and your shoe fits this Ether
|
| Niggas got they own fucking sound clown don’t need ya
|
| They ain’t come here for that or your remix neither
|
| You don’t go to the Chinese store when you want pizza
|
| They ain’t come here for that or your remix neither
|
| You don’t go to the Chinese store when you want pizza |