| Jay! | 
| Fuck that | 
| This is it right here, baby! | 
| You know what it is | 
| Yo, I used to have bad luck | 
| Now you might see me in a Jag truck | 
| Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck | 
| Double-R tee with the matching bandanna | 
| .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer | 
| And I see y’all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss | 
| 'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist | 
| Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon | 
| And you know I’m still writing the mean, lighting the green | 
| I need the bucket, even though I look, right in the beam | 
| Judge find out it’s my team, he boost they bails | 
| Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales | 
| We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label | 
| 'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains’ll try to slay you | 
| They call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know | 
| Fuck what you ask me, you probably don’t want me to blow | 
| I got a lot of horsepower so I’m able to skip | 
| Usually a good nigga, even though I’m able to flip | 
| You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh) a 100 for The L.O.X. | 
| (Yeah) | 
| And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop | 
| Whatever’s in the bank is my bet, a z-bull's my pet | 
| And you can bet he’ll get the legs and the neck | 
| Uh-huh, yeah, aiyyo | 
| Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson | 
| New York’s youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y’all heads | 
| Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y’all beds | 
| And that’s warning, if you all alive in the mornin', that’s fine | 
| Now I suggest you hit the block and get what’s rightfully mine | 
| I want PC, see me? | 
| Tuck in your chains | 
| I got niggas my pops' age that lifestyle ain’t changed | 
| It’s like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow | 
| Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho (ha!) | 
| I rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted | 
| (Style on these niggas!) | 
| And I don’t even want waves, Timbs be halfway new (Huh?) | 
| That’s Sheek in the dress-up club cause I don’t fuck with shoes | 
| And for my nigga’s life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told | 
| I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole | 
| 'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine? | 
| Don’t make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine | 
| Fuck with me, you be a «was nigga»: «Nigga WAS dope» | 
| «Nigga WAS gettin money» 'fore I extorted your coke | 
| 'Ju crazy? | 
| Aiyyo, catch me with a .38, box and shells | 
| In a '98 Lincoln, eating pasta shells | 
| Order to go, always got a box of Ls | 
| Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine and swig | 
| I’m Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig | 
| I pop shit 'cause I’m the second-best; | 
| the first was B.I.G | 
| Y’all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father | 
| 'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver | 
| If I don’t like a nigga, I don’t even be bothered | 
| I spit, I’m just a crooked nigga going legit | 
| You hold your nine if you holding a brick, common sense | 
| Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent | 
| L.O.X. | 
| get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale | 
| Us and DMX: the Ruff Ryder cartel | 
| Thirsty to live, or y’all niggas eager to die? | 
| I tell all my niggas ride, you won’t leave with a dime | 
| Motherfucker! | 
| Yeah, yeah, I’m a monster | 
| I sleep whole winters; | 
| wake up and spit summers | 
| Ghetto nigga, putting up Will Smith numbers (Ugh!) | 
| Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers, bitches among us | 
| Trying not to let this bullshit become us | 
| It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane | 
| Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number | 
| The chickens I twisted (Ugh) see the digits unlisted (Yeah) | 
| The beeper done changed | 
| You dead, bitch; | 
| the Reaper done came | 
| I suggest niggas stop speakin my name | 
| 'Cause trust me, y’all can still feel the heat in the rain | 
| I keep creeping, streets keep watching, I keep popping | 
| Niggas is hotheads and the bullets is heat-seeking | 
| Jay flow for pesos; | 
| chase hoes, NOT | 
| I just circle 'round the block in a drop | 
| Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh) | 
| Where the sun roof used to be | 
| I can see y’all not used to me | 
| Nigga flows like none other (Ugh!) | 
| I’m the meanest, toughest Don Dada to gun-butt ya | 
| You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya (Fuck) | 
| I’m the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya | 
| Motherfuckers! | 
| Ugh | 
| Y’all niggas bout to witness a dynasty like no other | 
| Uh uh-uh uh-uh | 
| Uh-huh-uh-huh uh, grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr… | 
| I’m headed nowhere fast (Ugh), runnin' in place, gat in my waist | 
| Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn’t come to my face (Ugh) | 
| So what that mean? | 
| You cats is playin' games again | 
| So now what I do? | 
| Start namin' names again (WHAT!) | 
| All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (UH!) | 
| Play like you don’t know, L.O.X. | 
| is gon' bark | 
| We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas | 
| Styles, Sheek, Jay… We comin' with like four niggas (AIGHT!) | 
| Y’all niggas best to stop playin' | 
| It’ll be the ones you forgotten about | 
| That’ll get you shot in your mouth | 
| ARF! | 
| ARF! | 
| Got my dogs covered (UH!) | 
| Plus it’s all gravy, like chicken when it’s smothered (WHAT!) | 
| It’s Dark, and I LOVE IT! | 
| (UH!) | 
| Get him, boy, let him loose (C'MON!) | 
| You want it with the dog or the gun? | 
| Let him choose (C'MON!) |