[Intro: Solomon Childs]
Uh, I was gettin' it (king of N.Y.)
I was gettin' it, I gettin' it man (you already know)
I'm tellin' you man, I was gettin' it
I don't know about all these other dudes frontin'
But when I was 16, I had a BMW 325i, man
I was in the marking homes, I had pair of fly sneakers every week
Every week, I was buying bitches sneakers, I was buyin' these kids sneakers
They mommas sneakers, I was gettin' it, man, ya'll niggas is up to something, man
I'm tellin' you man, I was doing my numbers, man
Niggas don't know about the God, man
M.V.P. for life, man, you already know, man...
[Solomon Childs]
Lick the red beam, '92 summer getting that CREAM
Tinted window, BMW team
Plenty Hancock to steam, it's how it's done
My favorite color is green, murder on the rise
Niggas know the lesson of scheme, stick up the fiend
Buckshot filler, with my momma, used to play Park villa
You pussy, I smell the tuna on your breath, nigga, kamikaze colors
Uh, the numero runners, the undercovers
We swing ammo, you swing lumber
Penetrate through your bitch ass style like ox cutters
I'm playing for keeps, bullet holes in the rental jeeps
So if you think I'm bullshittin', and you feel frog
Leap, so I can send ya fat baby mother a reef
And you ain't heard nothing yet, this is only a piece
It's only a piece...
[Interlude: sample (Solomon Childs)]
"We interrupt this broadcast, to bring you a special news bulletin
From our on the spot passport"
(You know what we doing man, making it happen, man
All day, man, you know what it do to you baby, come on
Cats hating on me, to the top, uh... fucking haters, all the way to the stop, uh, uh)
[Solomon Childs]
Fuck the douljas, I want the head of the chief
The general grips, the president's kids
Off your feet with the baboon juice, let the venom loose
I blow you out your Bathing Apes, this is for the high stakes
Shrimps and steaks, acres and lakes
Ounces of big eights, it's the good life, I wanna taste
No more window shopping like 50 Cent and Mase
No more roof for roaches, my whole crib laced
Whispering, love songs in a room filled with roses like Beyonce and Case
On the front cover of Trace, not for nothing, been a hard road
And ain't too much my mind erased
I'm living humble, try'nna embrace
I'm telling you, man, I'm living humble, I'm trying embrace
Before I got to put one of these faggot niggas in a backbrace
Let the venom chase, you and your team...