[Intro: Scarface]
No Limit motherfuckin' soldiers
And the Rap-A-Lot crime family (No Limit, Rap-A-Lot)
Scarface
Master P
They ain't ready for this y'all
Yeah

[Verse 1: Scarface]
Ghetto n***as remain violent (Remain violent), all the killers remain silent (Remain silent)
N***as strapped with 45's and ain't smiling
And I'm driving to [?]
The lake we build houses, but it's the hood we call home
In the ghetto, the only place a motherfucka will keep it real
We focused on the dollar bill, still
The outsiders tend to disrespect the 'Face
When n***as do they struggling, ended with a straight face
Surviving, under conditions demons dining
You could run it, but can't hide it, so step aside
It's the n***a that makes music for the streets
'Cause I love this mothafucka like pussy with no sheets, 'cause it's deep
Some n***as make it out the neighborhood and won't surface
They let the money make 'em nervous, what's the purpose?
A mothafucka sitting on fat
Who done came up out the hood, money can't come back
Fuck that, I remain in the street game frame
On a mission to maintain me then take aim
In position to let my opposition know my life
'Cause off in these streets, I keep it real but what's right?
Surviving, sitting on a ki doing business on a beeper
I'm sinking in this mothafucka deeper
Fear the Reaper, that no man born or woman harm me
Fuck beat these n***as in your army, though I'm a killer
Enter the ghetto so that you can see
What I mean when I say I love this 'cause it loves me
Let it be, stop looking at this mothafucka strange
And talking 'bout a mothafucking change
This is for my thug n***as
[Hook: Master P]
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as

[Verse 2: Master P]
'Face, imagine us working at McDonald's
To me and you, selling fucking tapes to the Bahamas
Gold slug, a car full of thug n***as
Twenty inch [?], so we drug dealers
No Limit soldiers to the fullest
See I was raised on red beans, the size of some bullets, huh
We ghetto n***as, can't be stopped
Got me mixing up dope with little Jay down at Rap-A-Lot
My phone tapped, the feds on my tail
Got me paying luxury taxes on everything I build
True to the ghetto, that's my life
You see that house on the lake, it's for the kids and the wife
You can test me if you wanna
'Cause I be dumping n***as off from New Orleans to California
Rowdy like a hurricane (uuuuuugh)
Independent, black owned got 'em hooked on this cocaine
You used to see CEO’s in suits and ties
But we young n***as in tennis shoes and diam'
Executive street millionaires
N***as gonna be 'bout it, 'bout 'til we gray in the wheel chair
[Hook: Master P]
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as

[Verse 3: 2Pac]
What do you get from boosting?
N***as coming out from California, and represent them n***as in
Houston
And now 2Pac'll keep this shit popping
And all my n***as across the Bay, know L.A., keep this shit hot
I keep a Glock inside my pants, don't give [?] a chance
Put me inside a casket, you dirty bastards
Until the day I die, you catch a n***a high off weed, the police can't find me
My shit is dropping and I'll sell five million
While all the n***as enter the game, they caught up in this drug dealing
Now how can I fall? how can I ball?
How can I catch my enemies and murder 'em all?
My words of flame, burn n***as inside their brain
N***as can't hang with me, and nuttin's changes, uh
Scarface got me on this shit
We lace heat, mothafuckas in they body and face, uh
Growing quicker, liquor, made me your daddy, your n***a
N***as don't wanna see me worldwide, mob figure
M.O.B., Hennessy keep me g'd and ki'd
N***as, don’t wanna see me, when I got weed in my system
Catch another victim, catchin' bodies
Bring a shotty to the fucking party, yeah
I party all night
I do this shit 'cause it's wrong but we born right
And to these n***as in my zone, we do it long ways
'Til these bitches understand n***a my song pays; 'cause I'm the man
Now these is my homeboys, we outlaws 'til the day we die
Keep this shit, rough and raw
My 45, make sho', that I survived, to another day
Just bust rhymes, and brothers get paid
Now that's the end of my freestyle, but it was left for dead
Buy my shit and you can hear it plain, West Side, n***as!
[Hook: Master P]
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for the homies and the thug n***as