[Intro: J-Hill & Salam Wreck]
This thing on?
Yo, yo, hm
That's gangsta (For real, yo)
Do you, do you, word
Okay look

[Verse 1: J-Hill]
If that ain't rich, [?] drop [?] hits
Dope like her'on, yayo shit
Detroit got more hustles than lingo
Shined up mamis on [Dubs and Rico?]
And boo I ain't trying to part those thighs
'Cause chicks be trying to marry J like Blige
I hang on the block with them gangster guys
Ducking police and them two to fives
Got a couple hot dice, we can shoot the five
Get a little weed money, hit the Coney high
It's all cool if you roll with the homies right?
I know you got some tricks you can show me right, like uh, do you
We can hit the bar, weed rolled up, big cigar
Need scales like Richter y'all
Sniff crack then spit the raw
Flow fеlony, hit the law
You don't know these streets
I rеpresent Curtis Ave. [?] street
My 6 Mile homies they down with me
Yo my n***a Big Proof he down with me
[Chorus: Tonyatta Martinez & Proof]
Do you
Do you
For my n***as and my bitches
For them thugs in the trenches (Do you, do you)
For n***as locked in the distance (Do you, do you)
Do you, do you
Do you
For my n***as and my bitches
For my thugs in the trenches
Do you
Locked down doing distance (Do you, do you)
Do you (Alright, alright)

[Verse 2: Proof]
The one reason why rap won't die
And n***as like Ja Rule won't multiply (Shit)
It's not a diss but my policy
And the line before this line was no apology (Bitches)
Rap ain't about the platinum and ice
Whoever disagree with me I'm smacking 'em twice
Asking polite n***a, lay down, don't make me stretch you
Heads don't feel you, they only nod 'cause they respect you
For what you was and you'll never be again
I'll never be your friend, fuck your cheddar and your Benz
Fuck your bread and all your ends, I'm deading all your kins
I'm bad for you player, I'll lead all in your skin
Stating the facts, blatant at that
Impatient and scrap, while small chats be relating to gats
Slugs escaping the MAC-10, breaking your back
Leave your headpiece bleeding, vacant and cracked
Brung the streets, feel my lungs with weed
Freshen any production like Big Pun on E
For my son to breathe, pack a gun to squeeze
Knock your teeth out your mouth and there your gums to bleed
I'm a bad man walking, you're a dead man talking
Snake with a grin that love to shed his skin often
But when the Glock is exposed and shot at your clothes
I'll make the back of your stomach touch the top of your toes, do you, do you
[Chorus: Tonyatta Martinez & Proof]
Do you
Do you
For my n***as and my bitches
To thugs in the trenches (Do you, do you)
Locked in the distance (Do you, do you)
Do you, do you
Do you
For my n***as and my bitches
And the thugs in the trenches
Do you
Locked down doing distance (Do you, do you)
Do you (Alright, alright)

[Outro: Proof]
Yeah, it's that underground shit
Houseshoes on the track, Cyzer on the board
J-Hill n***a, Big Proof, cousins baby
Obie Trice, I.F. Records
Underground shit
Detroit city, you heard me, c'mon
Everybody hop with me, Belle Isle hop with me
Belle Isle hop y'all, Detroit
Oh, tt's the Big Proof, oh
Essman on the...
[?]
Cyzer, Big Mike c'mon
Dre Dukes, Runyon Ave oh
Eastside n***as, Westside n***as c'mon
Let's go, let's go
Check me out, come on I'm out of here