| I think I’m gonna have to pay a visit | 
| Beat to the ones that said I wouldn’t get back | 
| When I get back -- get back | 
| Let’s get down to business (say what?) | 
| I think I’m gonna have to pay a visit | 
| Beat to all y’all, this is for all y’all | 
| Handle your biz, fall in, you fall off | 
| I’ve been kicked, cut, jumped, stuffed | 
| By record company exec’s, schemin' on my bucks | 
| These streets is rough, Timb’s on my feet get scuffed | 
| I hate to see my peeps get cuffed | 
| As weed gets puffed, MC’s get bluffed | 
| A&R's get pressed, dj’s get they shit bust | 
| Bucktown, Duck Down Enterprise Record | 
| Without distribution, dog, we still push records | 
| I step to my business, man, strongarm my own crew | 
| Rock with a group and a long tool | 
| Peep the fore path, I been said the shit in the past | 
| Let’s go back in time, flip the hourglass | 
| In 1998, I couldn’t wait, to get all my niggas | 
| And do shows, from state to state | 
| Even in 2000, two triple oh | 
| I used to be the man, until my band got old | 
| But I cannot fold, nor my paper thin | 
| Get all my paper in, or I’mm lace ya chin | 
| Know this B.I. | 
| thing, I be about it | 
| The prophet is only logic | 
| I’m like assassins from Elijah Muhammed | 
| Get ya hands out my pocket, stop it | 
| You can’t have it, in Long Street | 
| It can’t happen on beat, let another label | 
| Try to play me for cheap, I’m takin' this cheap | 
| Trynna chase down paper, til the white display the heat | 
| The devil may cry, that’s for Cuba, I’m playin' for keeps | 
| How my ends not gon' meet, at the end of the week | 
| I’mma be the streets for ya, I can get the streets on ya | 
| Give me the things, I can bang, plus I’m trained to get lower | 
| That’s the last time I seen a CEO and his lawyer | 
| See my shit tight, and I don’t stack 5 feet taller | 
| Yo, niggas gossip quick to pop shit | 
| Actin' like they pop shit, really not shit, yo | 
| Muthafuckers try to say I changed, man | 
| I’mma trynna change from Lex to Range | 
| Don’t look strange, trynna say that I ain’t the same | 
| Y’all niggas know about Starang, the same nigga | 
| From the white building up the block | 
| Who used to be the hype man, for Ruck and Rock | 
| Who knew the number to them bitches that can suck some cock | 
| Got in the beef, had thugs that’ll bust them shots | 
| My vocals make me more than bi-coastal | 
| You local, I get this dough like I’m suppose to | 
| Make riches that’s far from social | 
| Hear these words, when we approach you | 
| You keep our business alone | 
| You keep our business, in mind, your own | 
| Niggas fuckin' with the feds, they got me fed up | 
| Fuck keepin' it real, just keep ya head up | 
| Damn if I smoke the weed to keep me dead up | 
| Niggas fuckin' with lens, that’ll get them set up | 
| Bucktown is the shit, so nigga shut up | 
| Fuck parkin' the whip, just keep it reved up | 
| Niggas needin' the fifth, to keep a leg up | 
| Niggas bustin' they shit to big they set up | 
| Aiyo, let’s get down to business | 
| Let’s get pound with this shit, get that dough | 
| Slap a nigga, dude be like, yo why you do that for? | 
| Same reason I slap the other two, tic-tac-toe | 
| Fuck around, and jump out the ride with the big black foe | 
| Pop you in the face, and leave you with a big black hole | 
| Every time I fuckin' rhyme, you always get that flow | 
| Fuck you, I’m past that, ditch that flow | 
| Heard you performin' at what, niggas, skip that show | 
| Nigga --- | 
| Who we be, we be Boot Camp Clik | 
| Click, click, in the night |