[Verse 1: J.R. Writer]

Aight - yo
I ain't gon' front, I always thought he was a survivor
Shells and rounds, held 'em down, when he was in the fire
Now feds got him tapped from the sneakers to attire
Just like Kanye West, speakin' through the wire
Like: "Don't forget, make sure you speak into the wire!"
Thinkin' not he was singin', he would be up in the choir
When I find 'em, I'ma put the heater to his visor
All he's gon' see is the screechin' on the tire
Up the block, bang a right, make a left
Thang I light, made 'em stretch
Candlelights, graves are set
Not only that though - all his weight was wet
Hustle dummies, fucked up money, and was way in debt

[Verse 2: Juelz Santana]
It was all good just a week ago
We was together smokin', hella reefer smoke
All in the vehicle
I got the word back: he was in the vehicle
With the D's, I bet he thought he was low
Damn, this n***a spent the night in my crib
Sat in my mom's kitchen, now he go off snitchin'
But this my man, I could just stop fuckin' wit' 'em
Like I'm just not fuckin' wit''em...or just pop one up in 'em
Plus - there's rules here: if you play where the rats play
You gotta go, you must lay where the rats lay
Hate to see a n***a that I broke bread with
His whole head split - cold, dead, stiff
[Verse 3: Cam'ron]
See he opposed when we slapboxed
Then we dove the crack rocks
Jackpot: Golden Rolls when we drove the Jag drops
Du-rag top, ock, we cut the cheese together
Legos, ate Eggos, went to Chuck E. Cheese together
We watched Chucky, Shucky Ducky, we were lucky
Had a Huffy, then a buggy
Sold dubs, and twenty three's the weather
Now he got the nerve, to get lazy, watch me serve
With guac? or herb, now he gettin 'jealous cuz I'm coppin' birds
And he wired like MoneyGram, I got the doctrine
Went to the spy store so I watched who's watchin'
And you thinkin' that Cam's sweet? Damn the street
Fuck rock he ran to sleep, I'm cuttin off his hands and feet
And his glands and teeth...Yeah, the mission get done
Dunn, this bitch is the one, that told me to christen my son!
And the muscle tight, he wouldn't tussle, fight
Fucked up his juggle, he couldn't hustle right
Shoulda came for a loan, you know that scrilla's like
But what's ill tonight, Killa gotta kill his wife
Yup, address her homey, won't say he left her lonely
Seen some transactions, don't need a testimony
And I'm no punk, I pump lead bastard
When I dump, you'll get bumped, yeah them bunkbed caskets
And a brother just smiled, I just got him a ditch
Another motherless child, cuz they father's a snitch