| Uh, uh, uh |
| (The Evil Genius) |
| Uh, uh, uh, uh |
| Uh, uh, uh, yo |
| Uh, uh, uh, yo |
| Now hand me a business 'cause mine is stagnant |
| I think about the days I ain’t have it and now I’m grindin' at it |
| I ain’t braggin', we all admire fashion |
| I’m the flyest when I ain’t matchin' |
| Different colored diamonds clashin' |
| All I had to do was buy a package |
| Now it’s the finest fabric, Roberto Cavalli designer glasses |
| Nigga, my survival tactic ride with the ratchet |
| Keep a big gun inside of the jacket |
| I see my man inside a casket |
| 'Cause he ain’t decide to pack it |
| It’s kinda tragic, that’s how it happened |
| Out the bing, boy have it |
| For all my niggas caught trappin' |
| These the results of livin' more |
| Had to corner the park, mini marts and liquor stores |
| Now we can travel anywhere, pick a shore |
| Tell these niggas if they want war pick a sword |
| And they gon' have to pick these boys up from the floor |
| I was poor, that’s why I had to pick up raw |
| Seen a little bit of money, had to pick up more |
| What you think I copped a pickup for? |
| Not to pick up broads |
| I copped that to bring bricks up north |
| I’m the one that the chicks adore |
| I switch up whores |
| Where you want this dick? Clique or jaw? |
| What you think I picked your chick up for? |
| She swallow dick? Of course |
| What you think she got the hiccups for? |
| I ask God to forgive me for all my sins |
| Pray for me, my family and all my friends |
| Before I had the car with the rims |
| I was on the boulevard for a month |
| Same Carhartt and Timbs |
| Everybody come around when it all begins |
| But everybody disappear when it all ends |
| So I watch who I keep in my presence |
| It’s a problem at six then it’s deaded at seven |
| Nigga, he need the medics, a reverend |
| He hospitalized or headed to heaven |
| Nigga, uh, you heard what I said |
| I mean he hospitalized or better yet dead |
| I come through your block with the hammer |
| I’m shootin' down family trees from the pops to the grandma |
| I had three hots and a cot in the slammer |
| Now it’s three blocks |
| One drop, I’m a scrambler, nigga |