[Verse 1]
f** all the glamours and glitz, I plan to get rich
I'm from New York and never was a fan of the Knicks
And I'm all about expanding my chips
You mad cause I was in the van with your b**h
With both hands on her tits
Corleone hold the throne, that you know in your heart
I got style plus the way that I be flowing is sharp
A while back I used to hustle, selling blow in the park
Counting G stacks and rocking ice that glow in the dark
Forever hottie hunting, trigger temper I'm quick to body something
You looking at me like I'm probably fronting
I f** around and throw three in your chest and flee to my rest
I'm older and smarter this is me at my best
I stopped hanging around y'all cause n***as like you
Be praying on my downfall, hoping I flop
Hoping I stop, you probably even hope I get locked
Or be on the street corner with a pipe smoking the rock
I got more riches than you, f** more b**hes than you
Only thing I haven't got is more stitches than you
f**ing punk, you ain't a leader what, nobody followed you
You was never sh**, your mother should have swallowed you
You on some tag-along flunky yes man sh**
Do me a favor; please get off the next man dick
And if you think I can't f** with whoever, put your money up
Put your j**els up, no f** it put your honey up
Put your raggedy house up n***a or shut your mouth up
Before I buck lead and make a lot of blood shed
Turn your tux red, I'm far from broke, got enough bread
And mad hoes, ask Beavis I get nothing bu*thead
My game is vicious and cruel f**ing chicks is a rule
If my girl think I'm loyal then that b**h is a fool
How come you can listen to my first album
And tell where a lot of n***as got they whole style from?
So what you acting for?
You ain't half as raw, you need to practice more
Somebody tell this n***a something, before I crack his jaw
You running with boys, I'm running with men
I'm a be ripping the mics until I'm a hundred and ten
Have y'all n***as like "damn it this n***a done done it again"
I throw slugs at idiots, no love for city cops
I sport a pretty watch, eight-hundred and fifty rocks
I'm making wonderful figures
I don't f** with none of you n***as
I might pull out this gun on your n***as
And rob every last one of you n***as
[Verse: 2]
Aight, let me kick some more sh**, one more time
(Yeah-yeah… Spit, some more) - Bobbito
Aight, check it out, yeah, check it out
Yeah, check it out, yeah, check it out
Uhh, check it out, aight, check it out
Aight, we gone hit it like this, check it out
Yo check it, yo my sh** is hot like jerk chicken
I should rob you but with that cheap sh**, you ain't worth stickin'
I've got a left hook that be leaving guys knocked out
Keep fronting and I'ma choke you till your eyes pop out
I was taught that if a n***a swing, swing right back
Battle Corleone, why do a stupid thing like that
Yo, I'm not in the mood son, so don't push me tonight
Plus I f**ed your little sister and that p**y was right
That p**y was tight — gripping my dick like a pair of pliers
You f**ing snitch; right now you prolly wearing wires
It's not a joke, so as soon as he laugh
I'ma strip him naked and stick a long broom in his a**
Leave him heart-broken, make him quit rap and start smokin'
My album is done, so no there ain't no parts open
I'm not a sweet stud, I'm a street thug
That's quick to beat a n***a like a cheap rug till he leak blood
You sure soft, watched you fall off, might slide your who*e off
Then call all off, and tear your jaw off
My life is far out, I got star clout
Every week bring a different car out
Go to clubs and buy the bar out
You ain't a player, put that cigar out
Take that suit off, before I shoot off, and tear your roof off
Leave your clothes bloody-red like the nose of Rudolph
I rocked many stages and never got booed off
I might let this gat burst, put you in a big black hearse
For that wack verse, should have tried these other cats first
Cause none of y'all n***as can f** with me
And if your man wanna join, I got McGruff with me
We puff much izzy
I do sh** that only tough men do
And them cats you with f** them too, I'll buck them too
Be careful what you rush into, you lame-a** n***a
No dough, always on the train-a** n***a
Can*l street, 10-karat-chain-a** n***a
You got f**ed upstate, you cupcake
How many dicks can your bu*t take
I ran through every b**h in my path
I was f**in' chicks in the a** when I was six-and-a-half
Yo, I'm a take you out your misery
And after this, n***a, put you in the social study book cause you're history