| Oh shit, oh shit!
|
| Yo look outside son
|
| You see that?
|
| Damn son, it’s comin' down right?
|
| Ok
|
| Let’s go
|
| Yeah, yeah
|
| You played the art of war like a chess champ
|
| The wrestler’s camp, let’s give the man a hand
|
| He used to go hand to hand by the gram
|
| Take a brick and then grind it to sand
|
| Baby girl, my 45. don’t jam, Al Pacino wit a tan
|
| Ghetto Casino, rollin' c-lo wit Vito
|
| For nothing under a c-note, nigga, we still reppin' the East Coast
|
| Reaching for toast like TV remotes
|
| Spray cans where graffiti is wrote
|
| And where the media promotes so I appear like a genie in smoke
|
| And for me it’s so easy to boast, even when I’m greasy & broke
|
| In a pea coat
|
| And this beat here’s good as meatloaf
|
| Better yet a pot roast
|
| Gettin' block close, if niggas need dope
|
| The hits out, better you then me first
|
| Nigga do your research, you’ll be six feet beneath dirt
|
| Promise you this much, I’m out for the big bucks, Mr. Big Stuff,
|
| get your shit touched
|
| Keep the 45th tucked, nigga kiss butt
|
| Whip a Benz truck, siippin' juice from a pimp’s cup, huh
|
| This is money rap, run a hundred & twenty laps
|
| On the track, it’s a money wrap
|
| Blat!
|
| Brothers scat, do some jumping jacks
|
| Brothers put out a buncha crap
|
| Now they perfect for tax
|
| Snow
|
| Let’s go, finesse the flow
|
| Fresh dressed from head to toe, let em' know
|
| On wit the show, we used to play the corner for dough
|
| Rain… hail…
|
| Snow
|
| Let’s go, finesse the flow
|
| Fresh dressed from head to toe, let em' know
|
| On wit the show, we used to play the corner for dough
|
| Rain… hail…
|
| Snow
|
| Me and my niggas had dreams of riches
|
| Bad bitches wit mean figures, keep the green twisted
|
| Squeeze biscuits, underneath the money green Discus, 2010, hits and mischief
|
| Juggling Jum’s, bubblegum
|
| Cum on her tongue, the color of rum, it’s the return of the fly bum, hon
|
| Maybe it’s just my radiant flesh or the baby tech that wet up a grey GS, yes
|
| Place your bets, till I get to taste success, rappers to me are just a waste of
|
| breath
|
| If they can’t take a threat then pay Flex out the Avirex
|
| Snakes for pets
|
| Eat a rat, spit out the head
|
| Single handedly rip, you and whoever you wit, level and peddle some incredible
|
| shit
|
| Run in your kennel once the kettle is lit
|
| We’ll beat you wit the metal clip, firmly legit
|
| You Kibbles & Bits, bitch
|
| Snow
|
| Let’s go, finesse the flow
|
| Fresh dressed from head to toe, let em' know
|
| On wit the show, we used to play the corner for dough
|
| Rain… hail…
|
| Snow
|
| Let’s go, finesse the flow
|
| Fresh dressed from head to toe, let em' know
|
| On wit the show, we used to play the corner for dough
|
| Rain… hail…
|
| Snow |