[Intro: Stack Bundles]
Yeah
Stack Bundles, Desert Storm
I got westside connections too, n***a
Yeah
I got my n***a Game
We Sqaddddd Up
From New York to L.A., n***a
Yeah

[Verse 1: Stack Bundles]
It's [?] [?] [?] smack man back in the flesh (I'm back)
Lowkey in the hood pushin' that piff in a burgundy S.S
I'm grubbin' and it ain't hard to tell
Do the math, I spend two-thousand on paraphernal
So those slippers mean and I don't mean sixteens that hop in a sixteen olive green
If that was over your head here's a steppin' stool
It's the early grad that learn to push wet in school
See me in 'em, I ain't gotta say I'm street
Been more dirt than Kesahwn cleats and I'm still in 'em
It's the gangsta that's all so cute
Wit a fofo long and a [?] [?] suit
It's nothin' for mе to send cars
N***a my phone clickin', my youngin' down to catch a body for the sim card
And ya'll n***as just runnin' ya jibs
Wе them click clack, get snatch cabbage patch kids, n***a
[The Game Talking]
Geah
Stack Bundles, n***a
Chuck Taylor
Your neighborhood gang banger
Fresh off JFK
L.A.'s king
Cut a cheque or suck a dick
Clue how you put me behind this n***a?
That n***a flow is gangsta, hard body
Yeah

[Verse 2: The Game]
N***as pray and pray on my downfall, see me rollin' with Clue, wanna send shots through his Range door
But I'ma always be L.A.'s king
Like Gretzky wit a pump the size of Joe Pesci
A year ago I was makin' moves
The closet I ever been to NY was Krush Groove
Now I walk through Manhattan
Pants saggin', engrave my all stars in the pavement
This ain't a diss, it's a statement
N***a wit a attitude like Nas buyin' jewelry from Jacob
I keep guns in the studio
Dre don't know about the cop killers and the calico
Or the P89 I hid in the booth, run inside this bitch if you think you bulletproof
Leave a bitch n***a by his Jacob
Aftermath, hit makers from Compton to Jamaica, yeah
[Joe Budden Talking]
Blat!
Ok!
Jump off!
Uh
Ohh, Desert Storm
It's, it's, it's that on top music
Two O one (Uh-uh-uh, ohhh)
Nine, seven, three, nine, O eight
Still on that New Jeru bullshit
You know (Top)
Let me talk to the people, man
Ok

[Verse 3: Joe Budden]
Gangstas do real things because gangstas have ta, I should have a real gangsta wack ya (Uh)
Bang and clap ya punk, aim at cha, he should be in the G-Unit vid with all the gangsta actors
Man should slap ya, hey gangsta rapper, I flame it faster, that on top gang you bastard
I'm in slippers and a robe
Cellphone flip and scroll like get him off the globe
So rude to them, batty boys don't know what I do to them
With a west side connect like Cube and them
He'll feel this aluminum and start pissin' through a tube like mmmmm
But the lyin' stops when them sirens pop and them boys'll start to make the strip piping hot
You either hiring cops or you be likin' your cot
Or you be forced to leave Jersey like you Bryan Scott
N***a
[Outro: Joe Budden]
Fuck outta here, man
Tah
You no longer lowed here
Stack!
Game!
Uh, uh, it's that, uh, geah!
Clue!
What I tell you, man?
Don't call me at fuckin' four in the mornin' think I'm comin' over here to play games
Cause I got a bitch watin' at the crib soon as I get back, man
That's how we do that
Rap shit come first tho the bitches can wait, she'll be in the bed
Fuck I tell you, man, I'm that dude
That boy out there actin' a fool that's him, Joey
Tah