[Spade]
Uh, MF
Plain to see, its the Spade from the P-H
Can't change me, cause I'ma be a Figga for life
Holdin it down
Plain to see, can't change me
Cause I'ma be a Figga for life
From now until
[Spade - Verse 1]
I'm the rubberband man, Spade bounce back from the bottom
Yo they feelin Philly sound now we got 'em
I'm the modern day JFK before Oswald shot him
You want many styles yo I got 'em
You niggas want rocks on the wrist man I done done that
Glocks on the hip man I done done that
At the bar poppin Cris I done done that
Dudes wanna pop shit, till they hear them guns clap
Spade from the P-H, now who the fuck want that
Slash the O, dude with the nasty flow
And I ain't thinkin bout y'all I want my cash to grow
First in but the last to go
You bastards know
The kid Spade-O, I'm hear for the dough-ration
And if you say that I ain't hot, than y'all hatin
I know alot of cats think of testin me now
Want the fame? Say my name like your Destiny's Child
And I'ma give you everything from the twenty-two long
Eleven deep, but with guns we like twenty-two strong
Lil Ruck said Spade if they want it, its on
I wanna murder after each and every one of your songs
[Chorus - Spade]
Now y'all dudes say what you want
I'm bout my business
Want me to cock it and dump
I'm bout my business
Why y'all tryin to front
I'm bout my business
I'm Source rhyme of the month
I'm bout my business
You dudes say what you want
I'm bout my business
Want me to cock it and dump
I'm bout my business
How y'all tryin to front
I'm bout my business
I'm Source rhyme of the month
I'm bout my business
[Spade - Verse 2]
Man I'm Rakim dated fool
And I'm L rockin bells
And I'm Nas Illmatic
You guys, still average
We bust matics, for the lust of the cabbage
Its beef? Take the heat to Atlanta like Greg Maddux
and get splattered, all over the face
of the platinum presidential, no gold in the place
To my thugs down south to put the gold in they face
To you hoes I'ma blow and put the dough in ya face
Picture me rollin the safe, all down the ave and
No more walkin, strengthenin my calves
And my thugs stay hustlin with intentions to stash
Large denominations of cash
We ain't just playin the game, we dominatin your ass
An intimidatin head of the class
Word up, I'm bad at body work but it be the head when I blast
You wanna battle or some lead in your ass
I'm bout my business
[Chorus]
[Styles - Verse 3]
Every rapper wanna say they real, fuck em!
Fuck around and get your lady killed
Might get your baby killed
I'm Mister Mortician
Hoppin out the hooptie with hoodie on
Four four four fifth'n
And all you gonna see is mass hoes
And get hit with these slugs from your throat to your ass holes
And you'll be lucky to live
And you'll be lucky if I don't spaz out and try to fuck with your kids
Kill your family and friends, mother fucka
So you can understand what sufferin is
I live my life on the street thats what hustlin is
And you can't name a rapper that can fuck with me kid
You should stop beefin with each other, be smart
Everybody join sides and come and beef with me
So I can rock niggas asleep, ten at a time
Show my hood mother fuckas whats the meaning of deep
[Chorus]
[Spade:]
MF, Untertainment (I'm bout my business)
Nicetown, we still in here (I'm bout my business)
North Phil, paper chases (I'm bout my business)
Ruff Nation, y'all know (I'm bout my business)
Major Figgas (I'm bout my business)
Interscope (I'm bout my business)
Big Face Entertainment (I'm bout my business)
My mans on the hands (I'm bout my business)
West Phil, South Phil
[Styles (Spade):] (to fade)
Better get some mother fuckin busniess to be about
And don't be in mines (y'all know the Figga run down)
Bitch! (I ain't got to run it down, what y'all know)
See me if you want I'm available ALL the time (I'm bout my business)
L-O-X! Spade-O! Figgas for life! Gangstas for life!
Ryders for life! Ruff Ryde nigga!
Bitch, slightly aggrivated, frustrated
