| You know I got the fire | 
| And know NY to Cali though | 
| Way down in ATL they smokin' and drink, oh | 
| But do my thing in St. Louis, Chicago | 
| Kick out, kick out | 
| Then you flip out, flip out | 
| Then you dip out, dip out | 
| Tell ‘em (Put it in the air) | 
| Kick out, kick out | 
| Then you flip out, flip out | 
| Then you dip out, dip out | 
| Tell ‘em (Put it in the air) | 
| Well it’s your nigga lookin' jiggy riggy Rah | 
| Extraterrestrial hoes give me the jar | 
| Jaw jacker, 99 percent perfecto | 
| Millie hot booze in my biz more like peptol, cold | 
| Show room floor to the gazebo | 
| U.F.O. | 
| bang the U.F.O. | 
| shoe game | 
| Sheet freak man, The Knux, that’s the two names | 
| Staring on the whippy ass, this the very Shu Shang | 
| Skating on two, though, straight from the hoe | 
| To the booth in the VIP with the | 
| Krispy, that’s my dawg, I play Alpha | 
| He play Mohawk like Indian man Tanaka | 
| Chuck Taylor low rise, blue denim, blue star | 
| like Beckham the concoction | 
| Roll with the city boy, chic model, body type | 
| Mad kicks, clean figure, nails made, you got it right | 
| You know I got the fire | 
| And know NY to Cali though | 
| Way down in ATL they smokin' and drink, oh | 
| But do my thing in St. Louis, Chicago | 
| Kick out, kick out | 
| Then you flip out, flip out | 
| Then you dip out, dip out | 
| Tell ‘em (Put it in the air) | 
| Kick out, kick out | 
| Then you flip out, flip out | 
| Then you dip out, dip out | 
| Tell ‘em (Put it in the air) | 
| Georgia raise your speakers | 
| Cheesecake, Bistro, pea coat and sneakers | 
| Fresh day facial, my bad fresh basil | 
| B-racial hazel eyes bitch | 
| stuck with the slim broad | 
| Tryna get my dick higher than the tower of Nimrod | 
| Ay, but no brains | 
| She like to play the mental games, I laugh (hahaha) | 
| So look at Rah, flesh fresh, deaf and cleaned up | 
| Flexin', brown leather jacket, downtown casino | 
| You ain’t know rectangular | 
| Ending up in more bars than the phones at Cingular | 
| Won’t see me | 
| Way hot Vespa, laptop and a Latte (a Latte?) | 
| Yes, yes thank you man | 
| I be damn if I ain’t best dressed thinking man | 
| You know I got the fire | 
| And know NY to Cali though | 
| Way down in ATL they smokin' and drink, oh | 
| I do my thing in St. Louis, Chicago | 
| Kick out, kick out | 
| Then you flip out, flip out | 
| Then you dip out, dip out | 
| Tell ‘em (Put it in the air) | 
| Kick out, kick out | 
| Then you flip out, flip out | 
| Then you dip out, dip out | 
| Tell ‘em (Put it in the air) | 
| You know I got the fire | 
| And know NY to Cali though | 
| Way down in ATL they smokin' and drink, oh | 
| But I do my thing in St. Louis, Chicago | 
| Kick out, kick out | 
| Then you flip out, flip out | 
| Then you dip out, dip out | 
| Tell ‘em (Put it in the air) | 
| Kick out, kick out | 
| Then you flip out, flip out | 
| Then you dip out, dip out | 
| Tell ‘em (Put it in the air) |