Hook
Yo if you wanna go to war, its alright
Well if you ain't hardcore, its alright
You wanna get it on n*gga, its alright
Its alright (its alright), It's alright (its alright) (x2)
(JT Money)
I got a problem with f*ck n*ggas
Always talkin' sh*t and try to duck n*ggas
Sucker n*ggas won't finish what they started
Be coppin' dueces cause them n*ggas soft-hearted
They straight b*tches
Always puttin' on shows for these n*ggas and hoes
Be wantin' to run your mouth but won't throw no blows
Ain't got no scrap, better kill that rap
Think life is a game, until that ass get tapped
And when it do, what you do, you run like a b*tch
Or do you straight turn state on a n*gga and snitch
When you ain't got your boys, you ain't got no balls
And you ain't gangsta with all them 911 calls
Real n*ggas don't call police
Real n*ggas handle theirs when they got beef
Flawed n*ggas talk sh*t and know they can't back it
Know they ain't real but always trying to act it
Hook
I'm the original jacker, flawed boy attacker
Taking your life ain't nothing but a factor
Matter of fact, I'm a killer straight out the slums
No time to dump, I got these pumps for you chumps
And I ain't talking bout' the reeboks
Getting three Glocks and jumping out of treetops
Making suckers flee spots, and leave knots
Got guns, get funds, yeah I'm packing styles
Suckers acting foul, get smoked like Black and Milds
n*gga know a plan, laying down this thing
Beyond all that rap sh*t, I only spit game
You scared, say you scared, but just peep what I said
I'm so wicked off the head, probably shoot out of dread
Thats right, all you suckers better recognize
Before I start recognizing, ain't gonna have you n*ggas sweatin' mine
I'm in this thang for real, ain't nothing fake here
Putting down in the zone with my n*gga Shakespeare
Hook
(Big Gipp)
I wear my hat low, when I walk through a circle of folks I don't know
It ain't to much chalk in these streets that can hold me back
I make stacks and stacks, for the weeks and weeks I got slapped
Freaks, I got the grill with the white gold
Keep a pistol in my hand with the tight hold
From the city where they drop blows
Known to pin-hold down off them figure fours
sh*t shady, we all about to bust on sight, lighting up the night
Putting hoes off in 74's and watching em' all blow
It ain't sh*t funny, its the money man and Gipp
Holding sawed-off pumps in your face chump
Don't disrespect the city, streets, that I'm standing on
n*ggas from Miami and Atlanta holdin' heat
It ain't nothing happy
You see, it ain't all about that rapping
Hook
(JT Money)
Straight up and down, I'm a let you f*ck n*gga know
You n*ggas don't want war, talking all that sh*t
Cause you apted up on that motherf*cking tough guy juice
Get round' the motherf*cking boys, listen to this goddamn rap music
And n*ggas think its a motherf*cking game
Alright, play with it
Jt Money, Big Gipp, let you n*ggas know
Hook