[Intro: Don Mykel & Dyme-A-Duzin]
…soul lil baby
…whole lil baby
(Young Dyma)
(Swank Sinatra)
(You invited to the barbeque)
(Crown fried)
(Playas only)
(Sheesh)
Dyma, uh

[Verse 1: Dyme-A-Duzin]
Picture me rollin'
A spliff bigger than BIG's fingers
Mind frame aimed at the land of the big spenders
Wrist on froze, oh my God, did it hit winter?
Album 'bout to drop this fall, it's a hit, n***a
I'm tired of these clowns, this is it
Won the Olympics need a Gold medal, endless Crown chicken and thick strippers
The living in their lyrics is fictitious, I'm authentic
It's not a role if the boy said it, I just did it
Bridging these gaps too big for britches
Flow Chris Rivers, a lil pun
No way I can spark anticipation and then show up to the station like I'm Biggie's son
Make too many bands for you to send mе on a Diddy run
Seasoned, see why I can feel some typе of way
Giving singers and MCs that roam my streets the light of day
The reason for
Dymez by the duzin, the Don of this shit
Astonishin'; astronomical, the dollars that's spent', illogical
My only goals to uplift 'em, inspire the gifted, never
Settle for less in this wicked land that we live in
If getting paid in blue Benjamins to focus, I'm the only elite
Train for the Wimbledon, streets claiming my innocence
Damn
I swear this shit got me feelin' just like Sha'Carri
Talented and black, knowing most could never come near me
Dealing in industries insensitive to our feelings
In the process of adaptin', they after me tryna [kill me]
[Verse 2: Stro]
Yeah
I'm a East Coast resident
Represent, step in my square
N***as be hesitant
Heaven-sent, reincarnate, living in hell again
Y'all gotta nod, I'm the God and it's evident
Church Ave, '96, dollar cab, selfish
Then I'm ready 'round 6, I grew up around crips
They seen the dream and they told me pursue
So just know, when I blew, they knew
If you don't like, get sued, oops
I left shawty on read
She talk a gang of shit but ain't tryna give me head
Wanna line me up for the bread
And tape shit while I'm faded
Now that's the type of stuff I dread
I stay sharp like clippers, on the daily
Fresh cuts every week you gotta cheer me
On, stroll with one style, they live
Only thing in the box is my crown-fried
Yeah

[Verse 3: Daylyt]
Got some new fans blowing cause I'm the heir
Ventilate, grave site, right, straight to the point
Penetrate; dinner plate, this ain't the meal I want
I need a million; I'm still in America, see the pilgrims
Pale white hearts come around, carousel
Thinking Tinker Bell but y'all stuck in a fairy tale
Titanic, shit back crack and still lazy
Showboating at the park but we still appear crazy
Sees, lot, yall trips the plot we live
Big yachts, it's a lot to see, better document
Get the paper tight
It's gon' hurt but I still need the acre, like
This land mine, tell ‘em one step and it’s over
Explode ya
Hop in the ring sus, you must've been gold dust
Must've been cold cause
The last time I rode the subway
Three different meetings, n***a, we eating
[Verse 4: Rome Streetz]
Players only, macaroni
All facts while your bitch wan’ kick back and mack on Romey
Been shinin', hoes call me Goldie
Name ringing all over the internet like the best goalie
So it's a large fee for the flow, pay the dough, b
Get the picture like Adobe
The dough be, on my mind
Potent OG left my crown fried
We two kings in a county, Rome Streetz and Dymes
A dozen hoes tryna slide out they underclothes
I put 'em in a figure Ford then I vamanos
Four figures for the clothes and it's Abilos
When n***as punch out your fit then it's adios (Run it)
Be with hats and locs, out for blue notes
On the side, n***as shootin' like cool coach
Over bread, they grip triggers on a new toast
Light you up like National Grid, then they get ghost

[Verse 5: Don Mykel]
Look
Superfly shit
G5 pilots couldn’t see how high I get
Your fake ass claim business class in a tight clip
Tie knots tighter than my clique
In a circle like a vise grip, your vibe switch
I walked off, you ducked off
Goose in a noose can't hang with us
Foot on they necks, they reachin' long 'til the stainless touch
Clip your wings, I could hook up a saint on angel dust
PCP out the pain comes plush
I'm thus driven autonomously
Prominent prowess will power with dominant ease
Your conglomerate cowers meeting Dymes and the promising league
No lick with the Dymes, I'm dishing blam(?), Magic Johnson and Steez
Abracadabra, when you in need of aid, they disappear
Your head as well, funny, the bystanders just sit and stare
Get your pockets ran by the blindside, is your vision clear?
Step into my range box, cut, we flippin’ squares
Tired of roping dope til the veins bite
Coping with the pain, like
I can spot a fiend by the lean, uh
I got what you need, what you need
What you need?
I can heal your soul, lil' baby
I make you whole, lil' baby
You know, lil' baby
[Outro: Don Mykel]
Ha, playas only
Shit get major lonely on this side
This side, ha
Shit get major lonely on this side
This side, this side
Hahaha, yeah, huh
Dyme, what up, n***a
Home in the BK
Do it, all day, all night
'Til the song right
Gotta get the song right
Alright, yeah
Shit is alright
We gon' be-
We gon' be alright, we gon' be
We gon' be alright, yeah
La-da-di-da-di-da