[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]

You can't be sane to be testin' me
You ain't nothin' but name in my recipe
I got four bars hotter than your "S"'s be
And I don't wanna hear your tape unless it's me
I'm like guns I smoke - excessively
To see me - you little more effort, b
I love money it'll probably be the death of me
And I don't need ya'll to ball, like a referee
You ain't impressin' me..
Dont stand next to me
One hit will have you buggin' like ecstasy
Don't be mad if the one that bitch sweats is me
Cause she ain't ya bitch if she having sex with me! (WHAT?)
Come on, b
Who the fuck you tryna fool us?
I'll leave you with more bumps than a school bus
It's gon take the Riot squad to move us
Yeah, ya n***as got guns but do you bust?
I'm too much - I'm a tell the truth, you suck
Motha-fuck classy , gimme two sluts...
And a few cups
Hurry up, Fill 'em up! You n***as for real or what?
Hustlers - we deal 'em up, You... couldn't kill a duck!
I'm the type to make it hot when you chillin', what?
My team will fill up an 18 wheeler truck
Hop out! Beat 'em down!
Hop in! Flee the town!
Now-a-days you need a pound
All you ain't gonna be around
Stop tryin' to be me, clown - You want the blood to drip?
Twenty four hours, I'm thuggin' the chrome rubber grip
And ya bitch love the dick - Now I'm tryna smother it
Playa, why'nchu cum in it? - She don't want to cover it
Yeah, I'm on that gutter tip! Fuck around and slut a chick
See me in that butter kit, followed by another whip
Everybody rappin' now - I'm 'bout to let my mother spit
Brother spit - N***as tellin' on some undercover shit
Team got a lot of dough - You ain't gettin' none of it!
He blew? I gotta blow. - Flow got the sun in it!
Number 1-stunna shit - Gun gotta thunder kit!
I know you ain't come to flip - You know who I'm runnin' with?
All-Stars N***a..