— Plug. Word.
— Yo, son. Word, yo! You know what I'm sayin'? You know, we had the baddest mothafuckin' unit back in the days, kid.
— No doubt, I know that, son, I know that. You know that.
— You know, I know that. Yo, son, you know what I'm sayin'? I miss all my niggas, though, believe me!
— No doubt, word up, you know what I'm sayin'?
— And I don't never forget none of it. Su, Tyrese, Size, you know what I'm sayin'. All them wild ass niggas, man!
— Rob, you know what I'm sayin'?
— You know what I'm sayin'? Al, yo, man, shit is wild, you know what I'm sayin' God? Word up!
— No doubt, yeah! Tyrese, yeah!
— You know what I'm sayin'? So you let my shit go at the count of three, though, you know what I'm sayin'?
— Powerful. Word up. Yo, it's time, it's your time.
[Verse 1:]
Fake niggas throw shit in they drinks,
Club nights we snatch links, politic, Africans and chinks,
While World of Sport niggas snort coke by the seconds
Niggas projects filled with fiends injectin'
Morphine, the God seen more cream, and upstate
Cousin Reek almost got hit with fourteen.
Chill, pa, the God'll be a star when you come home,
Light bones, and let you rock my 3G stone,
So see, cousin, yo, I was workin', cats, I'm jerkin',
And uptown these niggas actin' like they hurtin'.
Keys 24 a brick,
Columbians be on some bullshit, that's why Papi got hit,
Stay tuned, word up, I hope to see you in June,
By the way, I seen your bitch, she was up in this cat's room
Skied up, weed the fuck up, to top it off,
Look beat up, with two crack fiends huggin' your seed up,
I took care of that, though, but don't worry 'bout it,
I got your back, though.
[Chorus:]
Yo, why's my niggas always yellin' that broke shit?
Let's get money, son, now you wanna smoke shit.
Chill, God, yo, the son don't chill, Allah.
What's todays mathematics, son? Knowledge God.
[Verse 2:]
Fly like cashmere, last year, my team caught bodies in Grasmere,
Hit a store owner named Mike Lavogna,
Italiano, slanted-eyed, bangin' them fat Milano,
Sellin' coke right out the bottle.
Sometime, a nigga brought 9's to test with mines,
Crazy piece, buyin' keys in Greece,
Was a rich nigga, picture the nigga without dope figures,
Condo with his chick, rockin' the gold Vigor,
Mafia flicks, tyin' up tricks was his main hobby,
Teachin' his seed Wu-Tang karate,
Mixin' drinks in clubs, hairy chest with many minks,
Night time rollin' with snakes.
Extra live, he claimed he couldn't die, top rank,
Sixteen shots in his fish tank,
And his pet piranha, he named him Marijuana,
Smokin' ganja, callin' his weed pipe Sandra,
Claimin' New York was ancient Babylon
Where the sky stayed the color of grey, like heron.
I can't front, though, truck loads of indo,
Soon to blow slow, his ass is out now, tally-ho.
[Chorus:]
Yo, why's my niggas always yellin' that broke shit?
Let's get money, son, now you wanna smoke shit.
Chill, God, yo, the son don't chill, Allah.
What's todays mathematics, son? Knowledge God.
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