You motherfuckers is sick, don't think Sauce the shit
So many niggas on my nuts I thought I lost my dick
Picture me fallin off, I'm camera shy
Hammers fly, might miss you, but your man'll die
What's the difference? Either way I'm sonnin' your crew
I fuck to win, y'all niggas comin to lose
Somethin to prove? Spit it, we can have a sprayoff
I lay off wack niggas and kill em on my day off
Ain't nuttin for me to bust a trey off
Murder the whole month of April nigga, just to take May off
Run with more Germans than Adolf, you light crews
Now I concentrate on your camp, like Jews
Flow hot like a heatwave bitch
Whips fatter than them shits they beat slaves with
I'm a mil stackin nigga who pull quick, still packin
For you Phil Jackson niggas on that Bull shit
[Verse 5: Styles P]
I don't give a FUCK who you are, so FUCK who you are
I don't care about a pretty bitch, watch or a car
I don't care about your block and whoever you shot
I don't care about your album and whenever it drop
I don't care about your past if I did I woulda asked
I'm too busy lightin 'dro with a whole lotta hash
Far as this rap shit, I'm ten steps ahead of niggas
Shootin backwards, just for practice
Ride or die nigga, hoppin in your casket
Bout to go to hell with you, blow the L with you
Tell the whole world I'm spittin let em know the shells hit you
I tell niggas quick, suck dick and get a Glock
My name ring bells like Sunday at twelve o'clock
I'm half past seven, bust six then eleven
You know me, slide my man my joint say reload me
I Ruff Ryde and pop a fella for Roc-a-Fella screamin
Jay (what the fuck) spendin mozzarella