[Verse 1: Bizzy Crook]

[Verse 2: Ransom]
I've been treated like old news, n***as just won't lose
They say I'm so crude and barbaric on Pro-Tools
I hear it, they flow cool, I ain't really impressed
I'm yet to hear something that I can feel in my chest
Let's put these feelings to rest, huh
The scent of a murder still on my breath
I gave the order, let's blaze a quarter
Harlem nights, see shades of Porter, became a martyr
Hate my father, so tell me how could I raise a daughter?
I came to slaughter, doubters and shit talkers
Dancing over they grave, they calling us Crip walkers, ha
I spit torture, the clip sparker
But still I drop couple jewels that's precious like Ms. Parker
Excuse me, is this how the story is told?
Exceptional delivery with this glorious flow
I spit at 40 below, all gold everything
But just because it glitters, my n***a, don't mean it's gold, huh
Like you ain't know, all flash without substance
It's been a minute since I made some cash without hustling
What's rap without suffering? Think inside of the question
These n***as getting deals just solely off of perception
Fuck it, call it deception, these labels got no direction
Well let the realest n***a that's rapping teach 'em a lesson
I ain't change up shit
I'm still coming through with some real live n***as that I came up with
Get your chain tuck quick, fuck a stain, blood drips
Know that dumb hood shit, I remain on it
Yeah, n***as know the story, I ain't pushing forty
But I been to hell and back, selling crack, "Pain and Glory"