Man I spit my game at a mile a minute

I got a dope ass watch with no diamonds in it

I like to sway back and fourth like a jesus piece

And I'm Harlem Nights ready like Della Reese

What you tell that freak? It's a quarter to 8

I'm at Tad's takin down this t-bone steak

I'm from the B-A-Y A-R-E-A

Fillmoe, God-Khan, Nicky, Andre

I probably said it before/ Yo, squares beware

That debonair, savoir faire in the air

I got Air Forces 1s god, I keep em untied

I'm married to the game, never see the bride

You look into my eyes it got the color of a sticker

They get a little bloodshot when I hit liquor

My timex ticker is tickin'

It keep me up nights I can't help but listen

I bust with destruction, at any little function

You can say something, I don't wanna hear nothing

Keep it all coming, guns keep gunnin'

The crack game changed but dope fiends hit the oven



My life line's in the picture frame

A lost soul tryna find home again

Yo my Billy Holliday characteristics

Pushes me towards the dope that I have to get with

My Timex is the ticker

It's like a track meet, girl you gotta get quicker

Gotta get quicker, gotta get quicker

Gotta get quicker