Spittin to live, two bullets hittin your ribs
You christen your kids, I let my son listen to B.I.G.
I won't stop til a thousand nikkas fit in my crib
I won't be happy til my last nikka finish his bid
All on the top, yeah, you could ball in a drop
I'd rather ball in a yacht, no callin the cops
In the middle of the ocean, lettin my nine pop
Givin a dime cock, blowin away
Baggin the yay, tryin to get a wagon a day
Pick up a quarter and still throw my chain in the water
Watch on the floor, bytch, I'll put my glock in your jaw
nikkas think they own the label, just signed a deal
You poppin that bullshyt, they might find you killed
Slumped on the highway behind the wheel
Or you could do it my way, relax and chill
You could work for SP, sell cracks and pills
bytch, I smack your mouth while you smokin a Phil
Run up in your house, then I llama your grill
Drama for real, you never seen honor and will
Til you wake up in the morning and your mama is killed