nikka what you think, I'mma stop building?
I'mma stop feeling like I'm Amistad's great- great-grandchildren?
How I'm not gonna want to make millions
Since the quarter water days, in the hallways making fake gold caps
With the Reeses Pieces wrapper in my mouth all day
But then my style has quite a while that same type as Ill and Al Skratch
Game time took 'em cats, never looked back, Cristal, blowing dub sacks
That's when it all just hit me, you see the broads and Bentleys is nothing
Unless my nikkas spend it all with me, I'd give it all away quickly
Just to hear them all about some new kicks free
Of any autographs, and not to be recognized forgive me
It's becoming unbearable, making hits is easy
Put a famous bytch on a hook, there you go with a platinum CD
I know you heard the noise, preachers touching on alter boys
Sodomizing, not realizing God is watching, before the Lord
How could they do the Devil's work?
A man give another man head in Church
Hell it hurts just to fathom the thought, wishing that I fled the earth
