| Uh-huh, punch in, punch out | |
| Come on, aiyo, aiyo | |
| [Trife Da God] | |
| You'se a has-been, always will, always have been | |
| That garbage you pumpin', you need to save it for the trash bin | |
| You wonder why these fiends ain't coppin' your dirt | |
| Cuz you makin' it bad for business, and you stoppin' my work | |
| I put, too much time on the grind, to take an L | |
| And I be damned, if I'm out on the strip, you make a sale | |
| You faggot ass nigga, you scared to break a nail | |
| When nowadays, all this weight that I'm movin' can break a scale | |
| I'm the hood's number one distributor, with the buddha | |
| Got it all in my shopping mall, I'm tryin' get this loot up | |
| Man, and I've been put that suit up, fam | |
| **** a 9 to 5, a nigga gon' move those grams | |
| And as long as the business is booming, ya'll gonna witness the movement | |
| Got O.G.'s try'nna get in the union | |
| But as of right now, it's just an illusion | |
| Cuz it's nothing for a nigga, like me, to go back to robbing and shooting | |
| [Chorus x2: Trife Da God] | |
| We got jumbos, tens, twenties and fifties | |
| On the clock every minute, and we movin' it quickly | |
| Punch it, punch out, we puncture, with gun out | |
| If ya'll niggaz ain't equipped for the strip, don't come out | |
| [Trife Da God] | |
| We play them corners, like kids, you misbehave, gettin' paid | |
| And the same spot, until niggaz finish, they last grenade | |
| I know that hustling's a strenuous job | |
| But if you see niggaz gettin' money, why should you continue to starve? | |
| Especially if your only choice is to mow get the yard | |
| But that's even a better reason, for the boy to get hard | |
| They same I'm all about the moolah, dummy | |
| And if you was a fiend, out on the mission, betcha, you'll cop from me | |
| Got you relapsin', collapsin', spendin' Benji's and Jackson's | |
| Get it here, cuz over there, they got twenties of aspirin | |
| And my clientele been so strong, for so long | |
| That you'll never catch the kid in the hole, like Saddam | |
| Cuz my name in the hood, keep the projects on the hunt | |
| And I walk around these streets, like my pockets got the mumps | |
| So I don't got to show you how to stunt | |
| I'mma just, handle this package and show you how to pump | |
| [Chorus x2] |
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