[Verse 1: Fred Money]
I was raised in the era when
Getting money n*ggas was paid off of heroin
Nowadays, they in jail or going broke
Hot as hell, that's a fact -- watch you rat on they folks
I say what broke n*gga raised 'em?
Where's the loyalty in this game?
Been doing ice for years, you just met David Blaine
What you want? A Rollie, cuban link, a big ring?
All these rap cats wearing the same thing
Talking this riff, but only a few change
Black whip, that's that mussain, n*gga
I'm too paid
[Hook: Fred Money]
You see, there's leaders and there's followers
I'm too busy getting chips to acknowledge ya
You see, there's leaders and there's followers
I'm too busy getting chips to acknowledge ya
[Verse 2: J.R. Writer]
I'm from the era of the crack
Different level kinda rap
My competitor is wack
He can never get a track
I'm a veteran, it's evident
I'm better than you cats
n*gga better than, it's light
Thomas Edison know that
When I rap, you can tell
Little bit of Big, little bit of L
Little bit of Pac, little bit of Pun
You don't like my sh*t? You can go to hell
Hold up -- I'm here, though
Snapping on you zeros
Sorry to tell you, but your favorite rapper is a weirdo
Yeah, I'm bar-for-bar the best
It's the Harlem threat
Sickening, tell them God it's chess
I put the song to rest
Your lady fam said she dig it, R is fresh
Wanna take her hands and dig in my Armani sweats
Keep that broad in check
Who said he wanna spar with death?
Shhhh -- it's quiet when I'm on the set
Them b*tches that you want
I hit 'em when I want
Getting in the jump off of Henny and a blunt
Jodeci, got my diamonds singing all at once
She know it's me, black Mercedes sprinter in the front
Chump, look me up -- ain't no hotter with the pen
I'm dope; shoot me up -- I just got under your skin
Must be getting high thinking I ain't sick as him
He ain't getting fly, he's just following a trend
And again, this is what you obviously lack
I'm too busy getting busy to acknowledge you cats
[Hook]