(feat. AZ)



[Verse 1: Half-a-Mil]

Spark up the trees to the street anthem

Firm lounge in the Hamptons on beach Mansions

rich kids got reasons for expansion, sippin' scotch on Yachts

we used to hold drops, chop O's to rocks

left the spot when it's hot until the snow dropped

now we rock gators low top

more Christal to pop

manifest the raw style of Hip-Hop

put rap inside a ziplock

put the map inside a kickbox

let the ship stop, finesse the best Roley wrist watch

hold a brick for every tic-toc

load fifths, let the clip drop

you try to get props? fuck around and get your wig popped

you'd be better off pumpin' my sound

in the Navigator jeep, bitches jumpin' around

skunk by the pound, illin' with pretty Women from outta town

Half-a-Mil up in ya system spittin' wisdom rounds

up in ya club gettin' down

doin' the hustle and the bus stop spinnin' Women 'round

when in doubt I hear the sounds

the illest shit around 

show and prove. 



[Chorus] This music makes you wanna move, get ya groove on, this music

makes you wanna groove, get ya groove on. [x2]



[Verse 2: AZ]

It's all love, empty out the bar, Benz car

Islam, rised to his own, niggas been large

guns blow, when you hear shots run low

playas know, paper chase, stack, play it low

iced out, club nights, cut the lights out

rush ya wifes house, get her whole fam wiped out

quiet storm type, real rich, niggas wan' bite

all for all on mics, don't make me have to show you the light.



[Verse 3: Half-a-Mil]

I'm all for this dough, like the rap Ross Perot

born to blow, on the low, on the corner for dough

flashin' gold, ice Rol, could've been on life parole

the greatest story ever told, life is cold

a hyper soul with a mic I'm a pro-

fessional, unquestionable 

pushin' Four Lex's too

be with mean chicks that like Sexist dudes

push V's incredible, more degrees than Medical

smoke trees on schedule



[Chorus x4]



[Verse 4: Half-a-Mil]

We be the crowd movers

niggas is slick but we smoother

maneuever like two Rugers

the type of kid to have a chick holdin' a brick between her two hooters

I used to ride fixes, now I fly in Sixes

camouflage, survival of the fittest

Grand God, America's the land of ours

they band God from the planet hard

from the landin' of the Ark 

to the sparks that brought light out of the dark

simulated Hip-Hop, bring the mics out in the park

MC's used to rap to get props

now we'd rather get Yachts

and massive knots, crash drops

cash crops, we came a long way from crack rock

it's been a long day 

you know how many niggas went the wrong way?

well hey, I'll still be the God livin' in Ellhay

feel me?, we're never guilty

super hoes milk me, schiest matters kill me

white knowledge healed me

for real G, it was predicted in the end

wise Men will acsend lyrically

visually picture me

stick wit' me in this World of mystery

you kiddin' me? 

I'd rather puff Sensee, empty M3's out of MP's

rock mics, 'cause I can rip these and get G's

whip Bentley's from the Projects to NC 

show and prove.



[Chorus x4]