|They said I'm bout it cus I wanna fight B-Hop
|I said I'll fuck him up after 2 months in detox
|So, besides that, 8 mill from Reebook
|I take him to the ball park, that's 33 shots
|You son of me? I need not
|He must love another young nigga killer that hustled in his weed spot
|When he had the black Lac, ran up to the tree tops
|Somebody talk about him then they went and got a speed nah
|Sex is when me and her sorta ran the G spot
|All the niggas left her and we came here with dream tops
|Listen here, so you got my vision clear
|Never for a pro, but I made niggas disappear
|Niggas know not to fuck with me
|And my record is sucka free
|This money I been makin' it work
|So A-Trak let's take 'em to church
|They don't hear me though
|Know what I'm sayin?
|I'll fight my way to the top of the food chain than be a vegetarian
|I get my own
|Bank is a place to allow yo money if you prove yo own
|I don't need it, know what I mean
|My parents got high, no lie
|It's no shame
|A product of dust, lust & cocaine
|Still cool with some niggas though that sniff cane
|That grow weed that grow hair like Rogaine
|Heartless to the core, feel no pain
|That's models, hood rats, o flames
|This nigga say his fame is no name
|Street fighter, I throw flames
|On the strip, no strippers
|But she suckin the tip, I might tip er
|Understood? In my hood that's the way we go
|We can't comprehend or understand the ratio
|For my baby-o, hopped, the money from the
|The 3-80 blow, up up away we go
|No cash to help out yo lady-o
|And look out for baby bro(damn)
|Should I rob a bank? told me something, yes gold maybe no
|What I'll do next? Get crack head felatio
|They thought I was slow like radio
|Couple years later though they heard me on the radio
|Wo, bro! Kill'em!
|Know what I'm sayin'?
|Real life shit
|What you gonna do Dae?
|Go get that money!
|Set that up, man!