| If you buy Trill shit |
| Then you buy that real shit! |
| And the D.A. and the judge gone get it |
| If they don’t free Pimp C, bitch! |
| And when I drop shit, it’s hot shit! |
| You know I ain lyin' |
| I only gave y’all half the shit, but I got more in my mind! |
| If you heard that green and yellow cd |
| You bout love a lil nigga! |
| You a girl, in this thug world |
| You might wanna fuck a lil nigga! |
| I don’t really give a fuck |
| About the fortune and fame |
| I want the money |
| So my daughter wouldn’t have to beg, no mane! |
| I’m in the studio, daily nigga! |
| Wit my pen and my pad |
| Where I run rhymes about my life |
| And how I’m missin' my dad |
| Dedicated, to makin' these hundreds |
| I get paid for my shows |
| Niggaz hate it, cause' my name |
| That’s what takin' these hoes! |
| Thirty-six zones, on the fuckin shelf at the stores |
| Ya better get before it goes! …And |
| Every album like a bird… steady flippin! |
| Every album like a bird! |
| My first album was bout a 7 (It was aight) |
| But I talk me some shit |
| About this world |
| About these girls |
| And how I dog, my bitch! |
| My next album was bootleg |
| Ain even come to the stores |
| Cause a nigga stole it |
| And they sold it for the price of some |