Lyrics: Clan in da front, let your feet stomp n***as on the left, brag sh** to d**h Now hoods on the right, wild for the night Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to... [Verse 1 - Zin-Zeta] Ayo, hustlas, gangstas, bustas, wa*kstas Cornballs, warhols, all y'all, I thank ya For bumpin' Zetaphore Productions and Gravity The Cut-Man and Graphic, B, back when were practically beggin' who*es to hump him We came a long way and now the metaphors are buzzin' I remember when my mutha-f*ckin' credit score was nothin' Now, we make enough dough to break bread with all our cousins... they never saw this comin' Who expected all this clubbin'. T He hunnies been lovin' me since they saw me on "Baby Girl" and heard me on "Half A Dozen." My lyrics got'em jumpin', so their jugs are jugglin' They huddle around me with their bubbles and let me touch'em Once they get a hold of me, I might bend them over - Have'em titties lookin' over-easy, and smash ovaries [Verse 2 - Gravity] Ayo, snake-skin snap-back, co*ked by the dome-piece Dime-piece givin' dome-piece till I fall 'sleep Wake up half-baked... breath-stench... Hennessy The brain was so good that the b*tch took my memory Everyday's a new day/new brain That means, my memory's gone temporarily B*tch I'm a dog - a brand-new pedigree. The type to hold it down... tits... Gravity My dick's by her cavities I'm sick, like a room full of mutha-f*ckin' allergies - the illest n***a rappin', B [Verse 3 - Young Cutta] Yeah... CUTTA! Music make'em jam, but the gun don't, 'cause I keep the clip clean Bust a n***a's dome; turn his dream into a split-screen Young n***a, but I got big dreams I was better than n***as when I was sixteen Real rap, n***a. Check my f*ckin' resumé I'm in the booth, cookin' up the soup; I got the recipe You can't box with the n***a; you're a featherweight n***a's mad, 'cause I'm after Jay like the letter 'K'