[Verse 1: Fred Money]
Woke up yawning from a sour nap
Slept for a hour and I'm proud of that
Hit my n*gga Kwon, he inside the trap
Told him I'm on my way, get the slime from Mac
Hit the shower and recite a rap
Throw on some get fresh, outie in a hour flat
Big boy mom, smelling like a sour pack
Kryptonite, ask Superman if he want his powers back
Around the scratch like I got a itch
In the 'jects with my scrap, and he gotta pitch
Take him across the map whenever I got a trip
Don't gotta trip, we gon be rich with a lot of chips
I'mma spit for them n*ggas that can't
But wish that they could, so they can ball and sit in that paint
Try to change a n*gga's ways, all you get is restraint
And once you get a n*gga paid, all his feelings is blanked
Real talk -- I seen steel spark
Bodies on the floor, outlined real chalk
Squally knocking down doors when them deals talk
You ain't a pig, what you squeal for?
sh*t is messy zoo, how this speci' do
Turn a close friend to a vegetable
Got my man doing time, and it's Federal
If he said he do, then I bet he do
Look
[Verse 2: J.R. Writer]
I got that type of raw you bubble that'll get us all in trouble
I do it for the hood where the only choice is hustle
Rawest boy in the world, come and snort a couple
I got that boy and that girl, come and snort a couple
I was born to ball; n*gga, you ain't known at all
Follow protocol? Well, I'm the pro to call
When you need someone to tighten up a rookie
You gambling with your life -- I'm surprised you ain't a bookie
Cut the foolery, cause obviously you pus*y
Ain't no schooling me, you'd think the guy was playing hooky
Live-r than I should be, you looking at a spitter
Trying to see a wussy, then look into a mirror
n*gga, I'm the answer; how could you be a killer?
Last time you had the hammer, you was putting up a picture
Talk about you got work on the block
That don't cut it -- here, you must work at the shop
It ain't worth it, so stop
You really hurting the pots
I done dealt with so much bricks that I should work on my shot
You ain't never wait in the hall with weight in the hall
Go into a sneaker box just to make a withdrawal
You ain't never creep the block when they take it to war
If I ever squeeze a shot, you'll go straight to the law
So, dog, what you trying to sell?
You know Writer well
Yellow Rollie on, only time will tell
I ain't with the foolery you spitting
I took a listen -- you's a waste of studio equipment
Who got a swag excellent as me?
I should put you in a bag, you'll never be a g