(feat. Fabolous, Joe Budden, and Paul Cain) 



[Fabolous] 

Yeah, uh huh, uh, uh 

Ghetto! Oh yeah 

Please believe it, believe it please 

Uh, Desert Storm, okay, that's right, uh 

Street Family, yeah 

They call me G-H-E-T-T-O 



[DJ Envy - overlapping Fabolous intro] 

New Fabolous, Paul Cain, Joe Buddens 

This shit's called Grand Theft Audio 

C'mon maan! 



[Fabolous] 

The kid's usually armed 

Especially since I put canary jewels in the charm and a mule on my arm (Yeah!) 

And find who you fools wanna harm 

Make sure ya kids wear a vest underneath they school uniform (C'mon) 

The pound slugs look like combos 

A couple in the face will make celebrities look like John Doe's (Who dat?) 

I'll show ya'll what the X7 look like almost (Yeah) 

Private jet interiors that look like condos 

Ya security look like Arnold 

But he never had so many stitches in his head, they look like cornrows (Uh ugh) 

Two long Desert Eag's, four on the chest 

It feel like you got no shirt in the Tuscon desert heat 

Crib got large screen cinema, garage look similar 

To looking in a Dupont registry 

I'm assuming you cats spread rumors like that 

'Cause you never seen ya moms speak wit a aluminum bat 

Ghetto 



[Joe Budden] 

OK thugs, call the troops, tell them load they slugs (Buddens) 

In the closet is the long nose and O.J. gloves 

I don't care what type burner ya using 

Gangsta it out, let's put the heat down, do some furniture moving 

Look, tried and acquitted 

Rap suckers, all ya lives I lived it, remember I'm the guy that did it 

Who drives the 6's? Dogs, you can't ball out 

No matter how much you customize ya Civics 

Block work, glock work, give him CPR 

(For what?) For trying to play his A-dat in a VCR 

Keep on following Scarface, I'm plotting a car chase 

Stop! It's Jumpoff wit Desperado's guitar case 

I ain't gotta call on hounds (Why?) 

When ya guns is like the last Lennox Lewis fight, short on rounds 

I'm used to dra-ma, ride wit the tool and hammer 

All you young rap dudes is bammers 



[Paul Cain] 

Don't let me out of my cage, the world ain't ready for Cain 

The black talons and the calico confetti ya brain 

I rock Lacosta, the kid wit the roaster is back 

No top, sitting on 20's opposed to them black 

Hang rappers from helicopters, Sosa of rap 

I don't talk, I pull toasters, approach ya, and clap 

I still hustle coca and crack 

Just got in the game and already platinum posters and plaques 

I don't write, I speak what I feel 

And pop off po's dog, I don't need a reason to kill 

I'm like 2 weeks from a deal, like 2 g's from a mil 

Right hand, few feet from the steel 

They wonder how I flow so strong 

'Cause I live what I spit, my smallest hammer is a 44 long 

I spit pain rap, when Cain clap, duck for cover 

Hot hanger, torch ya girl, and pluck ya mother 

Always ready to clash wit titans 

And the princesses in my watch look like a flash of lightning 

Same box I got for the gun you stash ya ice in 

Make niggas sell they soul and cash they life in 

Motherfucker! 



[DJ Envy] 

People's choice 

Don't forget Desert Storm 

My man Kah, Paul Cain, Fabolous, Joe Buddens 

Fat shout 

Varcity clothing line 

My man James A.D 

Desert Storm mixtape Volume 1 Blok Party 

You know!