Yo we can't stay alive forever,
so shit hit the fan
and we might as well die together,
I'm high as ever, more hoes and more cheddar, G -Unit move around with them pounds and barrettas,
yeah faggot, if I want it I'm gon' have it,
regardless if it's handed
to me or I gotta
Don't make a ass out of yourself
trying to stop me
I'm cocky, rap's rocky,
nigga, you sloppy
You know that I'm eight
levels above you, nigga
I plug you, nigga,
I never heard of you, nigga
It's over, nigga,
I'm the wrong one to provoke
And rat no niggas,
it's only gon' leave you smoke
So the only thing left now
is toast for these cowards
I got no friends,
fuck most of these cowards
They pop shit till we start
approaching these cows
While we lay around dol lars,
they lay around flowers
I issue of anxious,
the dog using stings to read for
We flip when I call a bitch
like she Queen Latifah
Now all the vehicles is long enough
to stash the streetsweeper
This shit gon' get uglier
than the masterpiece maker
We slidin' through the ruckers,
with pride on the chuckers
So the spring break hoes
home from college,
when the fuckers
I ain't here to drop
knowledge on you suckers
I sick drop wilders on you fuckers
Cops followin' the cuffers,
top dollars to discuss this
Whole lotta zeros when it comes to paper
I'll blow the soul outta arrow
I'm a break for
I lay in the floor, buried besides
Every rap ain't a star
and every plaid ain't ball buried
You can't tame Lloyd,
I'm smokin' by the big screen
Changing the channel,
it's like I'm playin' the Gameboy
I know the watch, Bob,
you're in your vision
But reaching, I put a dot on your head
Like it's a party with religion
While I party with a pigeon,
I'm blowin' a ten
Cause Bush handin' out flyers
for a party in the prison
I'm in a Gucci vest
with the green and red stripes
I'm the last rapper to scare niggas,
it's Craig Mack
Now every morning's a fast start
But it ain't a problem
gettin' dressed
Cause my closet got more
aisles than paths
And I'm runnin' when
we startin' to breathe
A lead with 12 shells in your mouth
like a carton of eggs
I'm a young pimp partin' my age,
I don't got long hair
But if I did, she'd be partin' my braids
You just find out what club they at
Take em with us and run a train
on em like a subway map
Yeah, Advance is a grey Acra
See these record labels
got most artists
Gettin' fucked like the gay rapper
I go to college on the tour
I'm goin' down in history, nigga
Next to Wallace and Shakur,
keepin' ammo clean
Text polished in the drawer
Cameras by the handprints
that monitor the floor
You heard of me, fresh out of surgery
Flashy as a fuck,
you gon' have to murder me
Burglary, we leavin' with your Nikes,
burgundy
White tee, burgundy,
you match now, back down
Niggas better hate you,
love you when you disappear
Catch me on the boat,
with weed, smoke, and fishin' gear
Heavy when I talk,
see notes from different years
Bezzy in the rope,
remotes and liftin' chairs
We ain't rich,
we'll be glad to snatch it
I'll send cars to your crib
like I'm a cab dispatcher
You better off with
these stupid guys
Lookin' for a coupe to drive,
you ain't gettin' nothin'
but your french fries super -sized
It's a damn shame y 'all still local,
I'm in a million -dollar studio
layin' my vocals, nigga
You're still in the projects, nigga
You ain't goin' nowhere
You gon' fuckin' be there
for the rest of your motherfuckin' life
And your mama say,
I'm supposed to tell you
somethin'
To encourage you, somethin' positive
Alright, well I ain't gon' lie
to you, motherfucker
You ain't goin' nowhere
Get yourself a bin, get on the fuckin' curb
Get on the fuckin' dirtbag
