Mm? Come on! Giuseppe! They shot [?] Who want to test me, come on? Come on! I'm the reason they scream Harlem bitch Come '013, I put crack on my strip Them yute come round like too much time So I flipped that script and started banging on pricks Me and Latz in his prime, [Maddister?] kids Only time was on 'peds in adrenaline kicks Prayin' when we got home man someone got hit (Live) Right now they got playin' on us, cool We gon' fill em' with slugs hand ting [?] all black wit' the clutch Make sure when you hear em', it's done SD and Tape wit' the leng gyal and they all hear that he bust his gun You're dumb if you think man's done, skin flare up make your blood feel numb (Muh, muh) Yo I never stopped smoking on Munna, I hear all they talk bout' Latz, I'm vexed too (So high) Me, I don't care we got [?] want dead moves, that's redrums and black suits (Grrt) And if you ski em, crash gang prolly cooked, don't wet him If not him then his bredrin Hand ting, no we don't fire like Tekken, you reckon try, man'll bag you in seconds Don't do drive-by, gang walk up Get walked on, air-outs on the corner 21 in this map, slaughter, muh Harlem boy, like Porter Petro-bus and retape my skin, bro creep round the back [?] cage him in Swag him and bad him [?], badder gyal Gallery Dept's still walk with a limp Can't go back and I don't regret all the yutes I smoked, all the opps I bled Told bro, "go round there with a glee", SK on me, but the corn too dead The man see gyal and they try impress, gyal come round man get jeet and left