| This year is to drop, ten years of calm | 
| What we strived, to innovate it, you know what I’m sayin? | 
| Four scores and seven years ago | 
| The homies that I know figured out, how we can get paid of that gangster flow | 
| True in that. | 
| breakin' the whores with that Rap shit | 
| Fuck that jack shit, benefittin' nothin' | 
| Givin' the world a little somethin' | 
| My comrades on the block still duckin' | 
| Pumpin' the junkies with that Killa Cali' | 
| Flippin' a quater to a half, see | 
| Bird was the word, they kicked that attitude into the industry | 
| I never knew that my Cap was old Chavy | 
| I only have fates, and two are my players, Mr. 187Um or Mr. Glock K-Oss | 
| Were all you niggas hear our shit? | 
| Then other fools came benefit it | 
| Believin' in the managers but they were just strangers | 
| Didn’t let us know about the paper workin' danger | 
| Rules in the land of shiesty, hookers they came fiesty | 
| People said. | 
| we was on the winnin' team | 
| Peelin' the grip, and it wasn’t just a pipe dream | 
| And we still chill blowin' that hell of steam | 
| So you know shake the spot, because it ain’t right be chillin' | 
| Where them hookers and panties be droppin' | 
| Got a letter in the mail said the west wasn’t true | 
| Sold a million records, so thank you | 
| Player hatin, on while we still innovatin, pushin' records across the nation | 
| So apocalypse with a pack of the clips | 
| Here we got a beef, so I think you better worry | 
| Now, I’ma free their minds, and free their souls | 
| It ain’t nothin' but the bomb shit comin' on sole | 
| Y’all, a little somethin' for them player haters | 
| Who think they got flavor like Nam' Laters | 
| They’ll get popped, mobbed, dropped | 
| Spit out, it’s kind of hard to speak | 
| With the tech all in their your mouths | 
| We do them just like the old days | 
| They got beef with the crew, they got it raised, to get sprayed | 
| It’s like that all day, always | 
| I’ll be true to this shit 'til my grave | 
| Yeah, Gangster Rap made America checked her neck | 
| Yo, when change the whole contexts | 
| Because, I went from dope dealin' to makin' millions legal | 
| Only me and Meegos, yeah, in ten years in makin' notes | 
| Still got the same Limo, and got the same Benzo | 
| Keep it funky at the gangster bate | 
| G’d up, put it down with the gang fate | 
| Yeah, it like my mamma used to say: | 
| If you go in like that, you’ll go out the same way | 
| That’s why I always be myself | 
| Cause I get no respect, tryin' to be somebody else | 
| And that’s realer than the realist homies I know | 
| You might as well patch your face right, rap at the Sight Show | 
| Or be a $ 10 whore, cause there ain’t no level allow you just might go | 
| Don’t come around, I’ma clown | 
| Cause I got more macks than Dann, when I get down |