[Verse 1: Jadakiss]
So sick of it
Run up in your crib, just for the sake of stickin' it
Yeah, I'm ridiculous
I know this is Kanye's track, but I'm kissin' it
Still laughin' at these cats, like I'm ticklish
Just somethin' about that shit, I like flippin' it
The world's back on my dick, I'm Mike Vick'n it
Cock back and squeeze, only right that you squirt off
Soon as I leave the building, they turn the alert off
Only thing I need to know is can you knock the work off
Fifth Ave, spendin' crack money up in Bergdorf
Leave that boy alone; I wouldn't recommend it
Half a mil worth of V-V's, independent
Everything is splendid, all fine and dandy
Hood-rich is one point nine off the candy
[?] sweat suit, thermal on with the [?]
Grilled tilapia, steamed salmon, or the scampi
Snakes still squirmin'; haze off sherm, and
Block is like the nickel boy days in the Vernon
Chrome four-fif'n, cause they still snitchin'
The pool's in the living room, swim to the kitchen
I'm so appalled; I'm better than 'em all
I rip an arena just like a hole in the wall
Spend a few stacks on some hoes in the mall
Real n***as is either in the hole or the morgue
Enemies is cool, loved ones'll hurt you
Dishonor before death, yeah, vice-versa
Elegant performance, my stash is enormous
Real talk: New York's been mine for the longest
Strong ones'll make it, weak ones'll suffocate
I keep it in the 'hood, so it's easy to resuscitate
Life's like a milk crate, nothin' like a beach, kid
Good cardigan over the True's, nice feet-wear
Yeah..
[Verse 2: Styles P]
Yeah
Hustle like an African, mother from the motherland
Work in the zip-lock, money in the rubber band
If the cops don't blitz, then I'm lucky
I want the eighth floor of the Ritz, like Nucky
Empire, like A-C from K-C
Kitchen cook; step up in the spot, all the bitches look
Eastbound down like Kenny Powers
Bricks is in the Dodge Neon, but it's Hemi-powered, any hour
This could be a seven-digit flip
Send a kite to the bing to get seven n***as ripped
Get the top ten list and get seven n***as clipped
I used to just ride on the seven bus
Now I let it bubble like Seven-Up
That was five sevens, you could die with a three in front
Need money, need pussy, need liquor, need a blunt
Wanna fuck with me, n***a? You gon' need a gun
Money over bitches, but respect over money, though
Loyalty'll have you on the boat to the bungalow
What you know about eatin' with the old man?
Tell the truth, this rap shit wasn't in the program
Sittin' on crates, to pickin' up weight
You gotta lift open the crate; tryin' to get my n***as straight
Ridiculous, I would even say this on tape (Ayo Kiss)
And you say New York City, that the world is very different now
Gun-light is my phone, real easy to lift it now
I'm so appalled
Shoot the pallbearers at your motherfuckin' funeral and treat 'em like dogs
Cause it's a motherfuckin' war
N***a! D-Block! Act like ya know, bitch!