(Chorus)
 Ain't nobody with the skills we got
 Putting shit together just to form another plot
 Better be on your P's and Q's
 Here's a message from me to you  bloow
 Ain't nobody with the skills we got
 Always putting shit together just to form another plot
 Better be on your P's and Q's
 Here's a message from me to you  bloow

 Verse 1:
 I break you off a little something
 There ain't no reason to be frontin'
 He sat with a cold blunt in hand, other nothing
 Pick up my pen, begin
 To let my mind bend again
 Rush with thoughts, bust, discuss how I'm finishing
 Cleaning niggas off, you just a pig who need a bigger trough
 While I chill on the land of the lore
 With your raps sound soft
 Beats never coming off
 How you feel? I know you thought you were reeeaall
 Losing you skill, what's the deal?
 Peeling caps on you record
 Interludes on some y'all ain't even seen real steal
 Imagine if you will kid, getting ill on a record
 Making dough, but it's your own shit still
 Now's time to play big Will nigga
 After you learn how to play the field, rocking the act vigor
 Trigger in you clutches
 Remembering the time you thought of doing niggas
 Spoke about the dutches
 New style every month from Tony Touches
 You capitalize on franchise type of shit
 Generic in your eyes
 No name brand the same
 But can't even do it like the orginal Fame
 Get that ass out the game
 Nigga, what!

 (Chorus)

 Honey! Where do you think you're going with my money?
 Broke you off last week, Yo!
 Girl listen funny, you thinking you're runnin'
 On some different type shit
 But your position at present could get your wig split
 Baby, what!
 I know we cool like that because, we known each other for years
 And all the time we was on the same level
 But you turned up the treble
 Not me I became a hip-hop MC
 On the other hand, babee
 You think of profiling as an acuvision (?)
 Last year was a different situation
 Hanging out with the niggas, when you were in need to kick back
 Smoking BDs, mixing hash with weed
 Denim and army fatigues
 You were never afraid to put degrees on a nigga who slapped up ya seat
 Now you're chilling with some type Johnny G type of cat
 Put you up in the crib
 Now you think you're all that
 Fly DKNY, Versace panties on your ass
 But, your son's looking like crass and tripping up in class
 Correct that bullshit, fast!
 And quit coming around my niggas begging for cash
 That's you boyfriend's task
 I heard he 'tacked you up really bad the other day
 'Cause I can hear your seed screaming, running my way
 Time to talk to that fool, cause my sons don't play
 Ah, honey, next time you change, don't stray
 You hear me?

 (Chorus)

 Ain't nobody, skills we got,
 Ain't nobody, Saukrates y'all
 Better be on your P's and Q's
 Here's a message from me to you, bloow