Mmm-hmm... yo we going in, nigga It's game time, gear the lacing of your kicks When I bang mine, ain't no escaping out this bitch And your chain's mine, kidnap the bracelet off your wrist Heard it through the grapevine, that you was hating on the click I'm not Chris Tuck', but I'll tuck them ratchets When I was young, I used to beat off, and fuck the mattress And I promise you, step out of line, see what that llama do Demolish you, rip through your chest, hit your abdominal My hammer hold twelve like a dozen of eggs And your man'll get bodied over something he said I'm not a blood, but I rock nothing but red He got his button on, I heard son fuck with the feds Why niggaz wanna fuck with my bread, like I ain't starving When I reign, I leave niggaz in Payne, but I ain't Martin If I ain't gone, I'm gonna move the weight by the carton On the plate carving, find me out of sight like a martian And I'm bobbing and weaving, dodging the precint Hit I-95, blowing cigars on the Decon Even when I'm fucked up, you know the God'll be eating It's all good, my hood is like the Garden of Eden We make hits, classical shit, spit acid Turn bodies into ashes, T.M.F., we the masters Father to your style, so you can't be called a bastard Held fast in close casket, on the verge of collapsion Demolition derby, car crashing, heart smashed in Brutaly, I beast on beats, Broadstreet, Staten Usually I creep black heat, in dusty clothes Then drift from rusty 'fro's Communicate