| If it’s too hot, then drop it, if it’s pistols, then pop it |
| If it’s money, then clock it, and never ever stop it |
| If it’s A-1 Yola, you know I gotta rock it |
| And that’s the reason why colossal knots in my pocket |
| If it’s Glocks, then cock it, if it’s game then lock it |
| If it’s enemies with beef, you have 'em sleep with Davy Crocket |
| Doing dues are better on your way but ain’t no need to jock it |
| If it’s truly 'bout your hustle, hustler, ain’t no need to knock it |
| My name’s Esham, I’m into sick things |
| I make 'em all scared when I say my nickname |
| gun and it make a big bang |
| Peace to all the drug dealers slangin' cocaine |
| A-1 Yola, no talkin' on my Motorola |
| It’s hard to hold it in your mouth like Coca-Cola |
| Situations getting frantic, the murder mechanic |
| You tiny to a gigantic, plus I’m manic |
| Depressed and stressed, I could give a fuck less |
| I carve E-S-H-A-M in the center of your chest |
| With a rusty razor blade until my paper was made |
| Now I’m swinging with a hatchet steady choppin' like blades |
| in my system, shit beat like a gorilla |
| I know mama love her baby, but I still might kill her |
| Saw some powder on my nose, man that wasn’t a mistake |
| Frosty Flake, even Tony the Tiger say my yola great |
| Straight I’m cool like that, plus I’m a fool like that |
| I aim my two like that and bust at you like that |
| Shawty lookin' at me wanna get naughty |
| I fuck that hoes that look like Sade, all day, off |
| All I think about is money, Rolls Royce Corniches |
| Gorilla beats bumpin' as the volume increases |
| I make platinum pieces, my paper never decreases |
| A-1 Yola on the streets, hold back polices |
| Junkie money against the boogie, I be shakin' up palm trees |
| You like the way it smell, but it’s making your lungs freeze |
| My paper never stop, so my pockets stay lumpy |
| Ball 'til I fall off the wall like Humpty Dumpty |