| Yeah, it’s Mr. Kardinal
|
| Yeah, Black Jays! |
| Oh what?
|
| Yo, all the shuckin' and jivin' is over
|
| I’m the chosen soldier, cold shoulder
|
| Your home boys told ya, flip your flows
|
| I fold, you can fertilize with the BS they sold ya
|
| I need papers for the style that I loaned ya
|
| Everybody’s talkin' about they gettin' busy, why don’t ya?
|
| Weak players in the game steady gettin' over
|
| I’m one of a kind, like side gills on a Rover
|
| First name Jay, but ain’t similar to Hova
|
| My buzz is like rum mixed with Coca Cola
|
| My shine is incredible, versus a solar
|
| I’m sick like a seven-day-strain of Ebola
|
| I’m here! |
| Yeah, nigga!
|
| (One more time)
|
| No doubt, when we on the block
|
| Because my niggas came ready to rock, boy
|
| Step heavy like a lion through the jungle
|
| I’m lyin' if I told you that I wasn’t raised humble
|
| I’m tryin', but I stumble, I try not to mumble
|
| So you can hear it loud stupid (Let's get ready to rumble)
|
| I’ll serve you son, like I’m supposed to
|
| The only way I’m bi, is when I’m flyin' bicoastal
|
| Or buyin' fly wears, Nike Airs like most do
|
| I’m hotter, than the hotter, than the hotter, I’ll roast you
|
| Got a good habit of doin' what you won’t do
|
| Stop playin' girl, you know I ain’t phoned you
|
| Check one of them suckers, you know that they want you
|
| I’m loco with the vocals, most dudes just local
|
| I’m here! |
| Yeah, nigga!
|
| Yo, rudeboys move in silence
|
| Don’t want to hustle until they hear sirens
|
| I’m tryin' to be inspirin'
|
| But my 6'4″, 220 has a lot of them kids perspirin'
|
| 'Nuff dudes firin', too many gettin' shot
|
| So swallow your pride nigga, check whoever is hirin'
|
| The paper gangstas is who I’m admirin'
|
| Those who get paper alive, and still smilin'
|
| Y’all stay wildin', I’m tryin' to go the mile and
|
| I’m rough enough to break New York from Long Island
|
| If you a big man, why you actin' like a child?
|
| Pick up the pace, and put down the crack vial
|
| I’m here! |
| Yeah, nigga! |