[Intro: Lon Dini] Yeah... Still here, boy (we here) Millimen, Lon Dini, Liberachi L.G., L.I., Baby Pa S.T., inside a hole you still here, nigga Yeah... let's do it... rock! Rock's good, nigga, fuck off! Yeah... Huh? Huh? Huh?
[Lon Dini] Yo you know who 'bout to go in again (yeah Dini) I kick down ya door, big guns glued ya ass then Yo the judge tryin' to kill my summer fun (Mayer's) Yeah his ass still run in the streets boy, get my summer ones Bitches love me like a fresh pair, poetry spit clear Never seen me before but coward, I been here Fuck ridin' the beat, boy I hover The way my mind travel I could probably cover 3/4ths ya sucker In a day, put all rappers on, I sautee You could never sound like this, even if you copied Fuck around, go down, slit the chin of four chopper (Mayday, mayday!) Hotter than four skillets on the stove I remain calm, reveal big toast and stay in close Ain't no gang when I write it, incite cuz L.I. holds (what up nigga?) Dollars, Dodge black Impalas Dart killa, I make clowns disappear for the skrilla Skanks I fuck 'em, guns I buck 'em You could look through the hip-hop list, nobody that could touch him
[Fes Taylor] Our pain is real, walk the block with the stainless steel I ain't never had a deal but I'm famous still (uh-huh) No budget but my chain is ill Jesus piece came from crills, ask 'bout my name in the Hill Fans wonder why we ain't been signed We done put five different projects out, they hate on our grind (hater) Labels'll pay you niggaz not to fuck with you Cuz I'm a hood nigga in love with the streets, I guess I'm stuck with you (fuck 'em) And black ball, I ain't never been blue balled (uh-huh) Cuz I could sing a chick out her drawers like Lou Rawls (Lou Rawls) You pause, I fast-forward my life Fans rewind what I write, the be bringin' it back I ain't tryin' to be the King of the Stat' (uh-huh) Still my son is a Prince You know me, gloves, gun with no prints (no prints) Since I've been here, put niggaz in wheelchairs Still give back to the hood like welfare (yeah, yeah) Alright, yeah, yeah, yeah...
[Pa Bazil] Who in the hell left the gate open? Take notice how I've been able to remain focused The Beethoven back in '95 was straight smokin' Ain't nothin' changed but the caliber of things I'm holdin' Aim steady, they ain't ready to buccaneer Bareback like ya air attack, yeah the culprits here Remember back in the days, we sold sofas here Now we lookin' like we was all put inside Oprah's wheel These Milli Misses really gettin' what we say we do Ask around, yeah we backed 'em down everyday, it's true But nowadays we gettin' money cuz we cater to Widespreads of fans across the lands that are paid a few Opie Oner, the roadrunner, the flow thunder Four gunners is killin' it all summer As far as the winter, we puttin' 'em on ice Put SOHO on an arm, he wit a nigga for life Listen...
[Fes] All our life all we wanted was a record deal [PaB] Labels give us a shot [Lon] I bet I'll sell a mil [Fes] Ladies, we get 'em though [PaB] Look at our pictures though [Lon] So many different shows [Fes] So many different hoes
