Here comes the one they call the P.I.    M.P.
 Straight out the cut no one can see I    bust these
 Way out of touch with all them bustas in my rear view
 but see they game  so lame  I can hear through
 I Hens doggin at the bar  actin real nice (real nice)
 Six pack of Hen  straight up  with no ice    tap me twice
 Did you really want my full attention?
 Sometimes my mind (intertwine) with the tenth dimension
 I see you inchin to my ride, tired, rest them legs
 Soon as you open up your mouth (uhh) there's the head
 Now who I be, MJG, certified, mic controller
 (Uncle Sam, I want you!) Trick bend over
 I'm a petrified rapper talkin, and you ain't nuttin
 but an electrified shyster walkin, I'm tired of savin
 people from takin these dead end trips, I'ma just go
 and bust this champagne upside your ship, alright you hip?
 You in a hurry? You can't relate?
 Don't ever say that I ain't try to set it to you straight
 I'm out the gate before you hate but I'll be back again
 You saw me faintly through the crowd but now I'm in the wind
 Once again
 Chorus: Eightball and MJG
 In the wind, it's a bird, it's a plane
 Now it be them hustlers with that skin tight game
 In your mix, scopin you, scopin me
 Eightball and MJG to the end, bustas we in the wind
 Verse Two: Eightball
 I sold my soul to this hustle, homeboy scratch what you heard
 T front me a keyboard, I flipped it like a bird, word
 on them streets be them Suave House beats
 In the Benz blowin Sweets got your gal between my sheets
 Speak -- I ain't have to say one little thang
 The fame of my name blew the ghetto freak brain
 Lookin for a meal ticket, she let me stick it
 Wicked when she lick it, tryin to make me trick it
 Girl, when I was broke it seemed all about the luxury
 Now I got cheese, I got a pay a girl to love with me
 But I'm a jelly worker, like Smuckers
 Workin against them suckers, big facin just to love a
 broad that done been around the world in a day
 Bear lovin whoever got cheddar to pay
 Ball like no trick ass, them shakers if I tip
 I be drunk, in the club, smokin sticky cat nip
 Slip, as if a banana peel was dropped in my path
 into a body bodyworkin not discussin no math
 Playa haters all around me as I stumble and grin
 Snatch my vest, twist somethin, hit the rumble and then...
 Chorus 2X
 Verse Three: MJG, Eightball
 I flip scripts on young dips who think they hip
 Smoke up your whole zip, sess hydro or crip
 Time and time again, stories have been told
 About the super hustler dyin tryin to get the gold
 Concrete jungle full of, carniverous firearm
 Hunger for flesh, and pray on who ain't strong
 Heavy weighters, with plenty hoes that buy em alligators
 In the wind, breakin all big ?
 Pick artificial tricks stolen money makers
 Money trees come in please, help a player shake a
 million down to the ground, feel them hits fall
 Ride with me I'll run your game into a brick wall, trick y'all
 is what this false literary do, then reality come
 (and snatch the natural dust out you) who speaks the truth?
 Whose your leeches? Whose your friends?
 I plan to bring the realness back again, but until then
 I'm in the wind
 Chorus 4X