[Intro]
Yeah! Street Sweeper, Street - Sweeper...
Papoose, Pa-Poose
Thugga, Thugga
Thuggacation!

[Intro]
You like to floss, you walk around with your shines
You told your homie you'd meet him around nine
But you got blam'd down at that same time?
Oh yeah, somebody must have set you up

[Hook]
You got lined, that's why I stay on my grind
These rap n***as know the city is mine
Line them up
N***as get killed over nickels and dimes
They wanted him dead, but he ain't see the signs
Man, they shot that boy so many times
Oh yeah, somebody must have set him up
He got lined, that's why I stay on my grind
These rap n***as know thе city is mine

[Verse 1]
You only get one lifе, so I live mines large
Sip Dom Perignon while I'm in my car
Thugga-Thuggacation, I move with my squad
But most of the times, you can find me with my broad
Yeah, I got the phone call, that your clique got robbed
But I told them "call me back, man, my shit not charged"
Don't tell me about a problem if it's not solved
A lot of people get offended when I spit my bars
You wanna know who jacked you? Homie it's not hard
Nine times out of ten, it's an inside job
You n***as lose! Cause I got the Bedstuy Blues
I destroy n***as who go against my goons
You making funny moves
You on them other suckers' side or the Thugga-Thugga side?
N***as better choose!
My homie had a cast on his arm, he a fool
Still toted the tool, yo he used to stash the 4/4 in his cashbah's room
He had the forecast, just like the weatherman on the news
I run up on your man with the Roog
And sting him in his chest like the fish did that alligator dude
In the streets, you can't win them all, yeah of course
You win some, you lose some, I hate to take their loss
Rappers ain't getting no show money, they can't floss
I do so many shows, even my hype man hoarse
You can catch me with a pair of crispy Air Force
I don't keep the tags on my fitted, I tear em off
It's getting too cold for them damn shorts
So I threw the Red Monkeys on. And you know what those damn cost?
I hate troublemakers, they so god damn soft
Instead of hands-on with the drama, they hands-off
You started the drama, but your man blam'd off
Now the drama poppin and you say it's your man's fault?
N***as be getting loose with that damn talk
So that's why I check em like my luggage when I go through the airport
They ride peddle-bikes, but the n***a on the pegs
Always act tough, like he living on the edge
But when you run up on him and hit him with some lead
He gon be on the ground, screaming "I can't feel my legs"
You ever come to the Stuy like you better
Than everybody else, cause you made a little cheddar
N***as gon run up on you with Berettas
And bang it on you like a true sinner
That's what happened to the last new fella, the shot him in his legs
He ran out of his boots, that's what I call a bootlegger!