| Yeah, let’s go… yo* |
| Aiyyo I put it to you so raw, you probably OD on the floor |
| That’s what you get for disagreein’with God |
| The LeBron James Bond, my aim with the arm is so long |
| That I can tag along with SOCOM |
| I spit to the beat, flip like Swizz did to the Beat |
| At sunrise, I spit to the East |
| Niggaz talk shit in the streets, when they 'bout to get released |
| They ain’t got no lip for the beast |
| Make you strip like police, I point the heat |
| From the hip to get leverage if you more than four deep |
| Got a pistol grip hawk with a chrome beat, shit is so deep |
| I check to make sure it’s no leaks |
| Lookin’like Jada in a black Jig-ari |
| Half Jag, half Ferrari, the valet saw me |
| Shorty wanna know how the flesh work, what’s under my sweatshirt |
| That’s why I hit the gym 'til my chest hurt |
| Next year or summer I’ma kill the conjecture |
| For now I’m just a hustler tryin’to give you my best work |