| My momma look in my face with praises |
| Amazin grace to see her son on a paper chase (paper chase) |
| She ain’t gotta face the jake, runnin up in her place |
| Cause her son’s on a paper chase (paper chase) |
| And she ain’t gotta face my frame, layin up in her wake |
| Cause her son’s on a paper chase (paper chase) |
| Obie Trice, toggle back and forth with options |
| This is my life, the block or your Magnum-voxs |
| The synopsis, clogs my logic |
| You wanna be mobsters |
| Roll on a roster like we’s imposters |
| Like we’s in D needs to be stopped |
| Like we don’t bleed and breathe hip-hop, and so they knock us |
| But this accomplishment is far more fetch than one’s knowledge |
| It’s impossible, we will never be stopped |
| Shady’s inevitable, our heavy influence in medley crew |
| Who grew from a old school’s point of view |
| Earn from the best, learn to play chess with words |
| The circumstances sayin we herbs |
| But that’s aight, Soundscan sayin we word |
| And I’m pronouncin numbers, I ain’t never in my life heard |
| And you ain’t gotta touch it, fuck it, say I’ma puppet |
| I hit the public, motherfuckers love it |
| Obie Trice 2003, summer, newcomer, I’m comin |
| Bump me in your buckets (fuck it) |