| Here ye here ye, come one come all |
| An nigga talking down on the Maab, bound to fall |
| Know I’m saying, Z-Ro the Crooked |
| Representing S.U.C., got my nigga Fred in this bitch |
| My nigga Trae in this bitch, and we don’t give |
| A damn about you, that’s why we fin to ride |
| I bet these boys, out here better recognize |
| My team, Guerilla Maab until it’s over |
| Running bitch niggas over, beaming a glock like I’m a soldier |
| Ready for war who that hating on Trae, and knowing they trash |
| Throwing they ass up out my face, if they think of blocking my cash |
| Mo' rocks than Damon Dash, independently I’m a threat |
| AKA a vet, and spraying them niggas until they wet |
| I ain’t finished yet I’m a G, and I’m finishing what I started |
| Half of these niggas out here be spitting bullshit, like they retarded |
| Disregarded never, I’m better than the rest of the game |
| You lame better read my chain, M double A-B be running thangs |
| With my kin folk Ro dog, and the L dog |
| Everytime let me tell y’all, we thoed I’ma swell y’all |
| (*talking*) |
| Well swell em up then |
| Fuck these old PH bastard ass niggas |
| Talking down on us, bet y’all can’t walk down on us |
| Nigga we strapped automatics, semi’s and fully’s |
| This one is dedicated, to them niggas that hate it |
| It’s been a long time, but we finally made it |
| We the realest of the real, and we can never be faded |
| It’s been a long time, but we finally made it |
| We the future of the funk, you punks is outdated |
| It’s been a long time, but we finally made it |
| Breaking laws and jaws, cause you bitches is overrated |
| It’s been a long time, but we finally made it |
| Presidential got a problem, with me making my cash |
| Trying to starve a nigga out, and have me flat on my ass |
| One hundred and sixty thousand, what they suing me fo' |
| But since my shit’s selling, you could never ruin me hoe |
| 25 hours a day, I be packing that lead |
| Chasing paper so me and Fred, steady stacking our bread |
| I understand that you bullshit niggas, done flip-flopped |
| Trying to hold on to a nigga, hitching a ride to the top |
| (and 97.9), the biggest hoes I know |
| Now Walter D is my nigga, the rest of em be hating Ro |
| What do you know, why these niggas all up in my face |
| Back back I’m about two seconds, from catching a case |
| When I walk up in the club, they act like they don’t see me |
| Nervous in my presence, praying that Z-Ro will take it easy |
| I’ma take it hard, while I’m killing em softly |
| Till they gone, they been hating us for way too long |
| Slow Loud And Bangin in they face, and niggas acting like hoes |
| I think it’s cause we never went, when we be spitting out flows |
| Got cash I’m sick with it, I spit it cause I’m a G |
| It’s the Jay’Ton, repping S.L.A.B |
| With Ro Dog and Trae, my flag be doing great |
| Undisputed like weight, when I’m upper cutting in your face |
| Body blows and jabs, for niggas hating on S.L.A.B |
| You come with that bullshit, guaranteed I’m beating your ass |
| It been a long time, and we finally made it |
| Hopped the slab off the AVE., and I finally sprayed it |
| No more slanging on the block, cause the block got raided |
| Like the point on the dice, I can never be faded |
| (*talking*) |
| Yeah, we ain’t gon blow it though |
| You know we got this hoe ass devil on our back |
| On our motherfucking ass, that nigga can’t face up |
| With a real nigga though, know I’m saying |
| Nigga know he talk shit, so I be spitting |
| All motherfucking day long, but it’s still God first though |
| This whole ass world got me this way, you know I’m saying |
| Bout paper, this motherfucking K, motherfucking Tre-8 |
| This 4−5, 4−4, shit it goes on and on and on |
| Talking down on us nigga, you getting 17 hundred to the dome |
| So I know u gon be gone, you know I’m saying |
| Fred get your bread, Trae pass that motherfucking K |
| And let’s roll, I’ma continue to blow dro, and we out this bitch |