(feat. Lord Tariq) 



[Tommy Gibbs] 

Times be desperate, spit ya best shit 

In this business, on some life or death 

I've been high in these streets, cried in these streets 

Willing, but I'm trying not to die on these streets 

Got my mind on my stack, vibe on a track 

Hang with them cats that twist niggas back 

Gibbs moves state to state, cakin a stash 

I sware, trying to watch them there, don't wanna crash 

Destination far, got killas in the car 

Minute we touch down, niggas know who we are 

Bubble in the spot, till it get too hot 

And then we blowin that one horse town back on the block 

In the mix, my click stay back to back 

We gon' the metal clap, till the shit jump back 

Guarantee to get wet, when my bronze connect 

Make moves when it's on, straight bomb ya set 



[Chorus x2: Both] 

Gibbs and Tariq 

Got ya scared to speak 

Cuz when it pop, ya might not drop 

But you gon leak 

Ready to die, two of the best from NY 

Niggas feelin theyselves, it's welcome to try 



[Lord Tariq] 

The name of the father, son, holy ghost and spirit 

If it's rhymes, I'mma spit it, Dutch, I'mma split it 

Cash we gonna get it, Coke money to credit, we do it to debt it 

These rules and bet it, Loan to Tommy Gibbs, 

by any means get cream 

Nigga mob we is, BX to Queens 

Give a fuck about the set you screen, the set you ream 

Cuz when I wave this motherfuckin tech you lean 

Logic, we in it for the prophet 

Won't stop less the barricade, the white stone and cars lit 

Hot shit, we spit, got shit to get 

Doin are own thing, 90 in a slow lane 

Smoke the cocaine, trying to own things 

In a Jag, bumpin Cuban, you own grown things 

Two of the illest niggas, ain't shit gon' change 

For this paper, I split ya brains, so get your things 



[Chorus x2] 



[Tommy Gibbs] 

Bet it all on we, watch us push red line on these niggas 

Bring the whole squad, go hard on these niggas 

Ain't thinkin bout the law, just walk up to they door 

Beat them to the jaw, heat them to the floor 

Stop till they drill and they wrists is locked 

Funny how they ain't go no more shit to pop 

Make it hot for the paper, you drop for the paper 

Run up in your spot, twin glocks for the paper 



[Lord Tariq] 

Drug caper in the rap game, quick to pull a swami 

Met up with my O.Y.G. niggas in Miami 

Die for the cause together nigga we family 

They can't stand me, thugs up for a Grammy 

Feds wanna snatch me, they caught works and scriptures 

Think I don't see them in the club takin pictures 

Call the phone, hang up, times they say "We gonna get ya" 

If the studios bugged, with all respect 

Get off my dick son 



[Chorus x2]