The mack back in action show skills when I speak
 Watch my   leak when I bring it to your face
 I still corner dimes  but in the nine I'm on a paper chase
 Glass rocks  mega tops  Tims on your block
 Holding heat like crock pots and keeping g's in my socks
 (So  what's up  hopps?)
 I got to keep it tight like seams
 'Cause ain't no fiends
 Coming in between me and my dreams
 See what I mean, black?
 I keep it real like that
 F a "word is bond"
 I need stocks and bonds from these ill raps
 Rappers won't see me with contacts, friend
 So, please act you've got a Siamese twin and think again
 'Cause in the end I start off with flavor
 Next to bless your chest with freestyle fantasia
 Smooth behavior
 Seeing rappers as illusions
 Meaning they disappear but I'm hear to keep you moving

 chorus:
 Everybody, move ya body!
 Everybody, move ya body!
 Everybody, move ya body!
 I don't think twice, kid
 You know I bring it to ya live
 (repeat)

 See, I don't get writer's block
 Yo, I block other writers
 And there's been nights I had to wear sniper attire for biters
 Don't make that same mistake and get scarred, retard
 I see that tape you listening to got you thinking that you hard
 But dig this...
 Cut your hair and get your name on your stomach
 I still find ways to make your whole rap career plummet
 Maintain
 I steal mics out of the frame
 But now people think they know me 'cause they know my real name
 While I stay same
 Doing shows and tours
 Somewhere in a phat crib(?) playing Sega in the dashboard
 Styles of sword(?) and flowing steadily
 Trapping MCs in mazes forever like Frankie Beverly
 You know the steeze
 I'm bringing beats to they knees
 Holacausting MCs and sees some g's before I breath
 That's how it be
 It's no doubt that I
 Got to bring it to your chest as I bring it to ya live

 chorus

 So, from this point on until the day that they bury me
 I'll still be on a hunt trying to snatch this currency
 Putting my peeps on while friends turn fake
 They get pissed thinking I be in Switzerland checking some real estate
 Dropping LPs every year
 Somewhere in a mansion with a butler named Vincent Jeffrey Belvadere
 I'm rare
 But, rappers ain't trying to hear
 The reason why their girl freestyled her number in my ear
 It's my year, son, and I ain't trying to slip
 I'm trying to collect props and get not(?) to stretch money clips
 Honey-dips
 I keep 'em on like low end
 So, f five-o
 Illegal, so we don't got to go there
 It's so unfair
 How I do wack crews shady
 They want to be next up
 Their style sucks like a new baby
 They can't faze me
 Mics and man fusion
 Beats I keep bruising
 Do your thing and keep moving

 chorus
 (repeat twice