[Fabolous (Paul Cain)]
Yeah, yo Cain (what up n***a)
Why wouldn't these bitches love us n***a?
Why wouldn't these n***as hate us huh?
(Why wouldn't they Fab?)
Yeah, (Desert Storm), uh, yeah, uh

[Fabolous]
Why wouldn't I talk as greasy as cheese steak meat
In a strawberry Range, pie crust piping on the cheesecake seats
I'm known for hittin' women's soft spots
With Princess cut Canaries the size of lemon cough drops

[Paul Cain]
I'm right behind 'em in the Porsche drop
Linen soft top, sick chain with 20 point rocks
Take your bitch, why wouldn't I?
The whip got chrome shoes, cream leather seats with old wooden sides

[Fabolous]
Uh, yeah, what's really poppin', usually boys know
This ghetto superstar with the Bruce Lee-roy glow
N***as has to hate the outcome (yeah)
Plus I'm in a throwback from the same year they assassinated Malcolm

[Paul Cain]
Make so much ends, I got to find faster ways to count 'em (yeah)
A minute on the block, how fast I make a thousand? (Cain)
That n***a you love to hate, still hug blocks and bubble weight
Off the love I can't