[Verse 1]
Cha, dollar bin residue
If I should do better, then my crew doin' better too
Your troop's incredible
Bite down through, my juice is impeccable
It's a Westwood sweepstakes
Took her 'round shopping on Third Street, the pumps fake
Pump brakes on the gas
The gas, so high you lag, can't see straight
Don't stunt my mood
Tan skin leather, aboriginal groove
The conclude, move
Breakdown, mortal shakedown
Have a heart to heart to allude
You lose in this region of parts unknown
Flights we flown to parts unknown to foes that season
Send a postcard back from Maracás
True style of access
Love food for thought, uh, malpractice
Toothless bastard, out the loop like a backspin
Make with my New York [?]
The mane incognito
The mane got rep from Poland to Del Rio
It's true though

[Verse 2]
Cha, keep it true, my chune
We stunt way tall through the worst typhoons
I went to hop out to play my blues
So deep that you done left bruised
That's the real street music
We thrash in the middle of mash and dance to it
[?] the block got a lot curfew
Run on home close when you feeling alone
Meet me off [?], at the intersection
By Debby and Brewster
My n***as out in Frasier on the porch with shooters
Use more caution
Your tape get cut, you move with few options
By the 260, scheming
Watch it all go by, baby I'm dreaming
It's true though
True