Yeah, o all my k**as and all my drug dealers To the boys with the lawyers And the ones with the public defenders Philadelphia, pistol-veinniam, put ya bangers in the air They say it's a recession cause coke prices done shot up I wish I could get it for ten a key, but I'm not Buck And yes my connect got planes, got trucks Yup, he could bring it right to you if you cop up But I ain't grindin' cause I ain't tryin' to get locked up I was over the stove, but I'm closin' the shop up I rap, but I spit crack so that's not much of a change From movin' 'cain on the block, but It's not illegal, people will still co*k s** Chicks will still hop on ya nuts if you got ya guap up Them other rappers is p**y, them n***as is not tough And all they sell you is garbage they red foxed up The hustla is on top, but that's not luck Every bar raw when I spit it it rock up You got guts, don't get 'em cut out yo stomach, n***a Don't go for it on fourth down, punt it n***a Before you get head hunted, n***a I could probably shoot the wings off a fly, you don't want it, n***a I'm a O.G, you a H.O.E You probably couldn't even beat Angelina Jolie Ayo, I dropped my first album in '03 It's almost '09, Swizz, it's showtime Every day I write more rhymes Smokin' weed, I call styles P cause it'll blow yo mind With no wine sometimes I do magic tricks I can make yo head disappear when the 'matic spit I f** with the yard, but we ain't on no f*ggot sh** He'll straight lay you out on some craft mattic sh** You ain't never bag a brick, you ain't never serve a fiend You got shot, but you never been to a murder scene That mean you never pulled a trigga with ya index You probably never even k**ed more than two insects I heard ya last couple songs and I ain't impressed Yall betta call it off cause y'all n***as fallin' off I'm on fire like a Molotov co*ktail, when I rock a lot of j**s like the Holocaust Yeah, I wear a lot of chains like slavery If you ain't talkin' money what the f** you gon' say to me? Not a damn thing, man, I'm the damn king And the damn champ with the damn belt and the damn ring I hold it down for my n***as in the damn bing Like my man crutch, my man luck, and my man sing I do my damn thing, I'm on another level now I'm tryna crossover, but still hold the ghetto down Carmello told me to settle down But to tell you the truth I'm in the booth with the metal now It's like I can't put the metal down Cause I'm a gun fanatic, but you ain't nothing but a f**in' f*ggot Yo best verse ain't better than my worst rap I became the best rapper when I wrote my first rap I murked that, chalk it up [Hook] Them shook Them cats don't clap gats, them n***as straight puss They scared to d**h, you see how they look? [Outro] You could sell white cooked up and raw There's numerous ways you could hustle to earn yours Boys get shot, locked down, and turn broads Them n***as is not real, them n***as straight frauds You not a crook, boy, you straight shook, boy