(feat. The Embassy)



[Intro: Shyheim]

This nigga, shit, yeah, I can't even walk to the corner store

Without a nigga askin' me, like damn

When you come in son, yo, when you go in, man?

When you goin' to do another movie, what's up with an album

Damn, son, you ain't got a welcome, me nothing?

Hah..



[Chorus x2: Kanive]

I'm good, play your part

Those hookers, those hoes, and my job

Those hustlers, those papes, and my squad

My neck, my wrist, my car



[Shyheim]

I know it urks, you, I come through

In an upside down Y, surrounded by a circle

Bottom Up on the windshield

Big mac-11 with them dumb dumbs, stupid, under the chinchill'

Niggaz better ch-chill, shit's still real

With the ice pick, the niggaz grills, give 'em fish scales

In Fishskill, where the fish kill

I'm like a far ring temtrum, Shyheim, it's real

Flip your whips to squeal, you will get killed

So basically nigga, keep your lips sealed

Put the minute in the pennant, call me Mr. Quick Bill

They hit me with a sentence, but your nigga spit jail

I ran and I ran, with them bounties on my tail

Drinkin' hot water, eatin' shit, that's stale

And still, Flex keep our single spinnin' like windmills

And a nigga fresh outta jail



[Chorus x2]



[Kanive]

Catch Kanive, and in the wide body, pullin' a sled

Still in the streets, duck and dodgin' the feds

Still got the trey deuce, strapped to the lead

How come the yellow bodies looked like scrambled eggs

Get your baby, take your cheese and your bread

I know he slow in the head, this is what I just said

He hearin' things, the blood is sunny side up

When the homey's ride up, with them chromey magnums, yeah

Swallow your pride, and cough up the product

Then I'm back around the block, what up blood

What up cuz, yeah, my pressure is buildin'

And the headphones are fire without a Lox reunion

Keep the streets like checks, nigga, pay your communion

Look, I'm going back from which I came

I'm like King David's sword on the black smith lake

Cherry red, seven sixty, me shine ya dame



[Chorus x2]



[Imf Blue]

I'm good, compared to all these broke liars

Who never gonna fire, like a broke ass lighter

I blow right by ya with a hoe like Mya

In a big body Benz with all white tires

Brolic bracelets that cause arthritis

Can't even open the door, got sores on my right wrist

Pores cuz I might just be forced to use my left

Hop it, don't pocket, and cruise my sects

I'm here now, so you where the problem at

I know where ya momma at, I know where to rob you at

The chip of my gun, get thrown where the coffin'

I'm blowin' that concious back, on with that monster mack

Blaow, and when that shit startin' squeezin'

You be right there bleedin', in them Nike air's leanin'

Sirens screamin', when I move from the scripts

Yo, Police and Blue did it, bitch, hit it, ditch



[Chorus x2]



[Outro: Shyheim]

Yeah, that was good nigga

Don't fuckin' worry about me, nigga

Do that shit, nah, I'm ight, man, come on man