[Brotha Lynch Hung]
Yeah man, (what's up?")
Ya know, I was trying to tell you n***a man
That n***a was trippin out man. I did all kinds of shit
For him and shit, and I help that n***a outta bad situations, you know?
Cuz was trippin man, I was like man
Still was talking shit n***a, heard he has songs about me and shit, you know
Man, so I gotta hit him back:

N***a you tha, king of comedy
And I'm-a BG that's what I'm-a be
Let you see that shit at close range
When I tap you with that bang and wrap you up in cellophane
That'll be the endin, no pretendin
Siccmade and high side ¿crash?, do a drive by with 'em
Do or die by which in em, get in em, any time, any where
Cut through lanes like Chris Webber
Better get it together n***a, I toughen up your leather with a
Tec, shoot you in the neck, get my respect, you muthafuckin bet
Might as well not sweat when I put these flames to your set
And leave you, Smokey like Robinson
MyUoze weigh 24 tons, and I got them
N***as on the run in em, and those 221Â's, you getted this done
Thats why I pack my gun
Cause when you tappin into this gangsta shit you gotta pack yo gun
Some n***as gon shoot, some n***as gon run
Its all mathematical, but often get tragical
Holding out the cadillac roam with the metal thangs
To do that ghetto thang, you know, to settle thangs
To hit them pedal thangs
Smash off in the Cut when you get that head in pain
You watch that medic bring, black bags and gloves
I gotta be thug (why?), I made that decision a long time ago
Drinkin Forty's and playing dominoes
Goin through drama with hoes, you know how it goes
I ain't been doin no shows, ain't been steppin on no toes
But the p11 9mm Ruger (what's that?), is the weapon I chose
I don't need much cause I'm clutch like Shaq Diesel
And I love the way the Ruger makes dead people
Catch 'em comin' out the church steeple
Cause he did my people
You know, paybacks to the first degree
And I'm crip walkin to my funeral, so it ain't no hearsin me
[A-Blocc]
I got my Nike's to the turf, this is A-Blocc
Im posted pushin yay rocks, to see right through these n***as character
They plastic like the Glock, neighborhood watch keeps lookin
But I keep jookin, shit I know where Pablo gots his birdies cookin
I probably crook em
See the plots to get richer quicker, make my feddy thicker
Perkin off the finest liquors, pass pen, triggas get clutched
I get my bucks man, MOB, thats money over bitches
Six straight rags with switches, got the feds takin pictures
Half heart half dope, invested my ism, is some pimp, heÂ's upset with a hoe
And made her hump till my pockets got the mumps like ¿gody?
I ask the little bitch, she said, oh he's a fuckin cody
So D, pistols everything from fake ID's
I put holes in shady n***as, left them eatin through IV's
Roll dese through the ghetto, vogues smoked like indo
High speed chases throwin choppers out the window
I'm wanted by the task, and bitch ass n***as gun blast
And all I ever wanted was the cash
Shit its like I'm hunted but I still get blunted rollin through the set
I'm-a do my thing for now though, cause they ain't killed me yet
And if I die then I die, shit, don't even shed a tear
I'm better off where I'm goin man, cause I ain't happy here
Got no fear, shit, them n***as bruise like I bruise
Lose screws like I do, n***a, choose how you choose n***a, ooh!