[Doap Nixon]
Most of you rapper are lame, this game's pussy
And I'm off my twist so don't push me
I think it's time to get knee-deep in this conflict
So sit when a dawg spit or live where Saddam is
Don't make me plant this foot right in ya ass fucka
And make you clean it off like we ate at The Last Supper
From being known to QB, more realer then Kool G
European joint wit two speeds
The times betta then Breitling
I stack off the strip money
Splurge all the change from writin'
I stay in the day cuz tomorrow seems frightenin'
Got two nieces, one smart, other one dykin'
My lil nephew gotta hands, so now he writin'
My lil cousin tryna spit, so now he bitin'
Uh, ain't bout shit, cuz we keepin' it street
Lead will stick to ya rib, tis the season to eat

(Hook) Good Money 2x
Tis the season, the season, all four seasons
Hear Nature callin', Doap got 'em leanin'
Paper all the time, Good Money what they screamin'
It's real till we fall, then we leavin'

[Nature]
Ayo, guns in the Pacifica, chop another witness up
Scared of the whole Police force
Rush it up to Commissioner
Lieutenant's in the white shirt
Perpetrators all black
Six foot one, white Tees and New York hats
Smokin' on the best kush, tucked in the yuck
Old end, 08, in the hood show face
In the hood, home base, overcrowded, no space
Every murder, cold case, where we learned to coke paste
Play rap on a cassette then, just to get a rep then
Just to get a rep now, runnin' wit ya head down
Shootin' at the crowd, pregnant ladies tryna get down
Stories in the hood, newspapers neva print out
Go lay ya life, you neva know how it's gon' end out
And keep a nine for wheneva you in doubt
Cuz it's the season that'll fucka dudes
Sucka dudes, flyin' on me, you've just become food