It's a stick up so put your hands in the mother fucking air See these triggers, best run cuz your about to see red Quit frontin' looking like these guys watching Want something? Hook right to your cheek, jaws busting What tough guy? F*ck it, been feeling a fight coming Leave skulls crushed gushing out blood with a concussion Haters get the heater, and their face to the pavement Yes I'm faded, in a Range Getting chased by police, and evading I'm warming up punk Who the f*ck did you think you fucking with You fucked up royally Bullets be buzzing busting shit I stomp comp conquering all of these beats A monster when I hop on the scene I'm a boss, and of course I drop MC's Steady you know what I'm about I'm a genius, cleverly be messing up these senteces Writing these hella melodies Inevitably a forced to be reckoned with Fierce intelligence undoubtedly Important, I'm working with skill you'll never reach I murder it I want the money The moolah just too intoxicating I ain't begging, don't get funny Best believe me I ain't saying it again Put the mother fucking cash in the bag before I cap it Your staring down the barrel of black MAC-11 I'm stacking up paper Regularly haters be stacking their Lego's But still they never reach, naturally, skills of my level If you want beef then bring the ruckus My mother fucking brothers ain't nothing to f*ck with Straight from the mother fucking sounds of Brooklyn We cruising bumping Wu-Tang Clan, and puffing Out it