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(Verse 1) |
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I'm tucked on the border line |
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Where I'm picturing stones |
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I hit the switch, and watch them bitches be gone |
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Get it right figga, I'm in my rear view |
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Cause the streets can hear you |
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Bright moon to steer you, it's gotta be wild |
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Get in position cause the streets you'll find |
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Matter of fact I'm on a detail grind |
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Without no female lies, me and my team move |
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Ice like snow storms, the price gets |
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Tighter than vise grips, cause game is priceless |
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Jammed up with ice picks no way you can write this |
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Seven on the dices, the way that I like shit |
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Catch me in the background holding the mac now |
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You never back down bitch you better back down |
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(Hook) |
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Look in my eyes nigga tell me what you see |
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This right here, it's for the books like Frasier and Ali |
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Strap in ya belt cause we takin' the ride |
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Through this concrete jungle, where you scratch to survive |
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Ya gotta, play by the rules cause the wolves is lurkin |
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Night time the streets is quiet, but them wolves is workin |
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You can slip if you want, that's when ya know it's real |
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Back against the wall, that's when ya blow the steel |
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(Verse 2) |
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Hey yo I spit that crack, hit you with a freebie |
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After that, bet you keep coming back to see me |
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See me, now picture that |
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When I'm better than any other chick that rap |
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Ya'll acting like I ain't never picked up the bat |
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Or picked up a mac, and make a bitch shit in her slacks |
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So try chill and relax, till I little spaz |
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I done filpped chicks for just trying to give me a dap |
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But since boy I take ya jewels, I ain't givin 'em back |
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And they can investigate me I ain't givin 'em jack |
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It's neither big I bang (?) for the streets strictly |
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That's why everywhere I go I got beef in the east with me |
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Give me ya leaf and the piece is sticky, don't try nothing tricky |
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I punch you in ya neck go tell ya moms to hit me |
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Custom made khaki's, no Im not sticky |
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Who told ya'll chicks you was fucking with me |
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(Hook) |
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(Verse 3) |
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Too many hutlers, and not enough customers |
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Shit on the hood, nobody gonna have no love for ya |
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Losing ya street cred on the real you can eat lead |
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And you don't want no problems, praying that the beef dead |
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Yo they brought me back to strangle the mood |
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The little and Slick Rick neck dangling gold |
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I ain't home but few times a day I be changing my clothes |
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I want this next generation to know |
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When rap suck, you brought it back to the essence |
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So sit back and really think before you ask any questions |
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Got this game in the cobra clutch cowards ya'll know what's up |
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And ya shook what's on this earth I seen so much stuff |
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I used to roll with Russ, the doors opened up |
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Doing big big things like making clothes and stuff |
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Street master mind, ya'll talking asinine |
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And I ain't have no choice my nigga I had to grind |
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I'm known for making moves, labels be baking fools |
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Everything is fixed, it's like people get paid to lose |
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A few occasions my neighbourhood do it major news |
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Ya boy got more flavor than Jamican food |
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(Hook) |
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(Verse 4) |
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Let's slow the process elimination |
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My niggas out for that mighty Dollar, What you chasing? |
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I done been where you trying to go and back again |
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I done seen niggas bang they own niggas |
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And believe me not an accident, so you think I give a fuck |
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What you say, how you feel |
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My niggas never tell shit, but a coward will |
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I used to yap about the Maybach |
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A real nigga in this industry is like a needle in the hay stack |
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Fresh deodors, what we got before us |
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Suckers think they flow sick mind is rigor mortis |
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I don't know who the fuck ya playing with |
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Price on ya head could be that bitch ya laying with |
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That'll take you to ya maker, while I'm in Jamica |
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Twistin up that Celtic green niggas post like Vin Baker |
