Put Tecks to my heart, the death of Escobar
Under your breath, whispers in the dark
I hear it 'cause the street ain't loyal to choose sides
Prepare for the beef, whoever lose dies rich and I'm thuggin'

I can't trust nothin', this bitch that I'm fuckin'
This clip that I'm bustin' could jam in my fist
Look at my hand, finger pussy with expensive rings
Cut coke cookies, wrote poetry and broke noses B
The voice from heaven, I'm God sent, of course a legend
This is part 1, speak my sermon, the hood reverand

Blunted eyes red, C-Class, a hundred times five red
CD's blast, speed fast, haters drop dead
I'm gorgeous black Goddess flip the arm rest, flip the cordless
Her body stacks the best, ass is flawless
Finally the long awaited shit, ghetto people, the sequel
Nas, CNN, nobody's equal

Yo, b ez, keep the club off the heezy
Straight thugs in the back, drink creezy
B ez but we still smoke treezy
See us rippin' the shows with thugged eezy

Niggas picked me the boss, Ricky Ross
Lex two-fifty horse power, click and devour the source
If it's flour then swallow your loss
I cock fours, kick in Poppi's doors

All for the cash and the cause
Niggas break big fractions of laws
So what, we got it sewn up
Smack every cat on the board
I speak the truth, guns spit at you

Shakin' my palm, it's pitiful, wavin' my wand
The Don, a hundred follow me like Farrakhan
Chasin' my Henny, embrace Benny's
It's quite Frank, my niggas I'll kill

Never waste a penny, money stay well invested
Feel the weight on my necklace
When death is too close flip the next shit
Thug the game out bust biscuits, pull the range out

Public enemy, Queens Bridge where I hang out
Sweet scent of weed, I wear like a fragrance
My energy's kinetic, mind power type ancient

Yo, b ez, keep the club off the heezy
Straight thugs in the back, drink creezy
B ez but we still smoke treezy
See us rippin' the shows with thugged eezy

I see death through the corner, die, kingdom come
Six 500's, pull up right in front of the slum
Sticky green fingers soldiers of the great God
Clarence spoke to the poor but he lived in Oz

An ill hook like Roy Jones, I'm a street corner bastard
And crush weed with the hashish
Bandana head dome wrapped
Caddy trucks with the grills and the chrome snaps

I'm on point like Al Sharpton, come peep the M.U. marksman
The S-Class is shittin' on your weak Datsun
Graffiti written on the Bible, my life is wicked
I see dead corpses and Rolls Royces

Put your heart on your lap, listen you hear voices
My whole persona is the drama and to smoke skama
I can lift it up, Willy what in front of your slut
Money bustin' out my pocket, your bank is stopped

Yo, b ez, keep the club off the heezy
Straight thugs in the back, drink creezy
B ez but we still smoke treezy
See us rippin' the shows with thugged eezy