[Intro: Saigon and (DJ Whoo Kid)]
(Ha ha ha). Word. (Saigon). Yo dawg. What up? Holler back, man. (Abandoned Nation). This here. This here ain’t for errybody, man. This is for the real ones. (Whoo Kid)
[Verse 1: Saigon]
This here is for all the missed peers I left in the pen
Even the ones I’ll never see ever again
When I get on, I take care of your brethren and them
They talk about you all the time—you a legend to them
If I could, I would just make the time fast-forward
New York is a lot different than when you last saw it
Yeah, dawg, it’s mad more chicks. But the pus*y ain’t free no more—them whores want cash for it
Police’ll still harass a harlot. Most n*ggas under thirteen still be on some basketball sh*t
But the ones older than that, they rolling in packs
And at least three of these n*ggas is holding a gat
Anyway, God, I kind of miss walking the yard
Talking with y’all ‘cause now I’m in New York and it’s hard
I done caught a new charge. I lost the god J-E-R-R-Y. Why he had to die?
I thought “When I get home, I see love get shown”
All I seen was drugs [strip-sown?] and slugs get thrown
Should I play the good guy or should I
Throw in the hood, I (Should I?) make some n*ggas in the hood die?
[Bridge: Saigon]
Should I? Huh? (Tell me, man. Omnipotent, man). Huh? (Let me know. Somebody write me, man). You tell me, man. (I don’t know what the f*ck to do). For real. (I’m losing it out here, man. But you know what, man? (What you used to do?))
[Verse 2: Saigon]
I used to stand on the block, selling cooked-up rock
Money busting out my sock ‘cause I really would clock
I [taught to?] robbing the spot—sh*t’ll really get got
Whenever the gun’s hot, n*ggas really get shot
Don’t give a f*ck if you a willy or not
If you got what I need, I’mma receive or the milly’ll pop
So what the verdoct? The bird drop. Throw the rock like Elvis Grbac
Word, I’m verbally hot like the Third Rock
And I’m repping the pen in every song I ever sung in
It’s all I know—sh*t, I was brung in as a youngin
Bear witness to coming
Real rap right on time while all y’all crime-rhyme n*ggas is slumming
Y’all muhf*ckas see a n*gga—I’m still bumming
But I got game, so I can still c*m in your woman
You could still catch one in the stomach
And I still let the MAC strike. You act like you want it or something
[Outro: Saigon]
Huh? (Ha ha). Punk. (That’s right). Motherf*cker. (f*ck all y’all. I’m here)