[Intro: Saigon]
I ain't no joke, '09
Uh huh. S to the A
Man...
[Verse 1: Saigon]
I'm the same kid that tried to murder your brother
Now I'm on the muhf**in' Murder Dog cover
Act like a nonbeliever—go 'head
Act like you ain't read about a n***a in the Don Diva
It wasn't for my rhymes neither
It was 'bout how I co*ked the gat, shot a cat back in nine fever
Why The Source gave me Rhyme of the Month?
When I shoulda got the rhyme of modern-day time
f** these n***as
[Bridge: Saigon]
(Hold on) Let's see
This is, this is some MC sh**, yo
You gotta be a real MC to spit on these beats man
Hell yeah, man
[Verse 2: Saigon]
I could be richer than Phil Drummond and still bummin'
And I know the difference between a b**h and a real woman
n***as stay up 25 hours a night
Any coward could write
They bark but they bite, don't devour the mic
I am the wildest in sight
Been in the pen, so I can tell you how it was like
I done seen Bloods faces pourin' it out
Six in the morning, COs yellin', "Order: get out!"
Now f** that—it's not what the song is about
This is about you weak rap n***as that's out
And y'all b**hes in the crowd that wouldn't give us no rhythm
When my sh** pop, I ain't gon' give you no jizzle
Nothin' but "f** yous" and bad criticism
Obama is the pres but I voted for "?"
I'm the meaning of lyricism
If it's somebody that feel different, give him my digits—tell him to hit 'em
He can call me on the late night or early in the morn
And that's my word, bond—we gon' get it on
And I don't care if y'all get along
Cause y'all n***as is cum
Y'all n***as just ain't that strong
[Chorus: Sample]
[Verse 3: Saigon]
I'm showing off with Statik—it ain't only Just now
And I don't smoke cigs, but I'll give you a bust down
Creep by wherever you hang and bust rounds
You gon' hear the sound of the pound—now
Thou shall not f** with nor say B.I.G. rhyme
If you ain't one of the Sean's the sh**s corn
Moving right along, my name's Saigon
The future of rap, f*ggot, the next icon
If I could just keep that gun in the house
Or for five f**ing minutes, stop runnin' my mouth
sh**, I'd be alright. n***as ain't tight
They don't write the kind of rhymes that I write
Right, right, I'm lyrical, five-mic material
n***a, you love the rizzle and I like to give it to you
So let's make things nice and clear
I'm sh**ting on the whole game twice a year
And they scared
b**h
[Chorus: Sample]
Let my people go
I did my time {*Echoes*}