| It’s our time to shine and make a million | 
| We are the ones that bump and grind all day | 
| So, we’re ghetto children | 
| I come so hard, they put a straitjacket on my tongue | 
| Bust flows with handcuffs on my lungs | 
| Didn’t have a gun, but the blast still stung | 
| Didn’t have a rope, but his ass still hung | 
| Living in the ghetto, no time to smile | 
| Laws and player haters, get placed in one pile | 
| By the time they realized, they legs were chopped off | 
| My foes, had already ran 21 miles | 
| When it’s time to hit the streets, I ain’t got no friend | 
| We’re all living in sin, multiplied by ten | 
| Down to spit a word at the speed of the wind | 
| And never be ashamed to tell you hoes I punched in | 
| You came to the table ready to throw quick | 
| Wanna see how aggravated my lyrical flow get | 
| Got jacked looking for a new target to go hit | 
| (You be rapping your ass off K), no shit | 
| I see I gotta be the one, to let the world know | 
| Just because your words rhyme don’t mean you got flow | 
| Y’all don’t wanna run up on K and Z-Ro | 
| We was writing on your level at the age of 4 | 
| Ain’t saying a damn thang talking loud | 
| Flows weaker than water still acting proud | 
| Every wack ass show you throw, you got mo' | 
| Motherfuckers on stage than it is in the crowd | 
| On top challengers, I can face those, the coldest in the game, no doubt we rape | 
| flows | 
| Can you create, tight shit without having to smoke some weed first, | 
| oh you can’t case closed | 
| I’ma take the game, to levels you never seen | 
| Teach you bout delivering, lyrics you never mean | 
| Pushing a perpendicular, paragraphs of punishment | 
| Mutilating the Devil, and stinging him till you scream | 
| Quick to make a lick, then handle the ends | 
| Putting tricks to bed, when I’m rattling chins | 
| Strangle, hitting from a psychological angle | 
| Back door him 'til he feel like he battling twins | 
| Been in the game since 1984 | 
| Love the underground, fuck the radio | 
| Need a billion dollars 'fore I leave out the do' | 
| So devils and fake partners, so long they gotta go | 
| It’s our time to shine and make a million | 
| We are the ones that bump and grind all day | 
| So, we’re ghetto children | 
| Staying on the grind, all the day long | 
| Puffing on a sack, until all the hate gone | 
| Steady running, through my veins | 
| I gotta go and get a pocket full of change, hustling before all the day gone | 
| I been pimping a pen but, probably fluctuation in the nation | 
| Of poverty, stricken people | 
| So everybody, trying to get a piece of the pie | 
| But the pie for white people, in the land of evil | 
| Me myself, I’m a goodfella | 
| Raining on a hater parade, grab an umbrella | 
| Catch you at the light, catch you at the ATM teller | 
| Young fella, at his last hour | 
| Caught up, in a non sugar coated shower | 
| Raw damaging, motherfuckers ain’t managing | 
| To get away, from my beam | 
| Leave a nigga not standing when, I shoot him and stab him | 
| Can’t get away, from my team | 
| Ain’t nothing but killers and drug dealers, and blood spillers in one spot | 
| Eagle talons hollow points, and regulars in one Glock | 
| Take it out, it take one cock | 
| Take over the whole city, but begin with one block | 
| It’s a promise, of paper will put a pimp plump out a pocket side | 
| Motherfucker I’m willing to kill, and willing to die | 
| Any nigga willing to try, cause I don’t bar nothing | 
| Leaving son of a bitches, in stitches | 
| For my riches, cause I’m paid in cash | 
| Running up on em, where the wet marijuana square | 
| Fried out, who’s gonna save his ass | 
| Sick cause I don’t like busting a men, I gotta get my grub on | 
| So my family, can get they grub on | 
| And when we grubbing, it’s a family affair | 
| Gotta get enough grub, for everybody to grub on | 
| Everyday all day, on a mission to make that money | 
| Gotta get that pay, K dash Rizino and Z-Riggy-Riggy Ro | 
| Gon get our share, and fuck ass and for | 
| We taking it, leaving bald spots in they hair | 
| Life is hard, but it’s fair | 
| It’s our time to shine and make a million | 
| We are the ones that bump and grind all days so we’re ghetto children | 
| Penitentiary chances, taken | 
| We’re risking our own lives | 
| But now, we pimp a pen all day collecting G’s | 
| It’s our time to shine and make a million | 
| We are the ones that bump and grind all day so we’re ghetto children | 
| Penitentiary chances taken | 
| We’re risking our own lives | 
| But now, we pimp a pen all day collecting G’s |