[Intro: Aasim & Fat Joe]
Yeah, uh, uh, let's go
More money, more murder
It's Cook Coke
Aasim, what's up, n***a? Uh
X-Ecutioner style, uh
Ah man
X-Ecutioners, baby
More money, more murder, baby
Biatch, what

[Verse 1: Fat Joe]
Uh, they say the truth shall set you free, I think not
'Cause n***as be ignorin' the Squad like we ain't hot
Like we ain't got the Bronx on lock
And like Pun wasn't as nice as Biggie and Pac (What the fuck, what?)
Shame on this game for makin' false promises
N***as yell, "They ready for war," more like hostages
Trapped in they homes, only without policе protection
But a beef on beast like thеy squeezin' weapons
We be the truth, bear witness to that
N***as say they sittin' on money, we sittin' on gats
N***as wanna get cute, start shittin' on crack
I could give you few hits but you gon' visit a MAC
And it won't be nothin' happy about it
A bunch of grown men screamin' and cryin', holdin' on to they spouses
And I ain't wanna leave his face in the pavement
But I gave him ample enough time to retract them statements
[Chorus]
Kick, kick, kick-kick, kick, kick-kick, kick, kick
Kick-kick-kick-kick-kick, kick-kick the truth
Ki-ki-, ki-ki-, ki-ki, ki-, ki-
Ki-, ki-, ki-kick, kick the truth
Kick, kick, kick-kick, kick, kick, kick, kick-kick
Kick, kick, kick the truth
Kick the truth, truth

[Interlude]
Somehow we go on
We go on because
We like to think there's hope
But that's a lie
Ain't no hope

[Verse 2: Aasim]
Listen, industry rule number four-thousand-and-eighty
The game drastically changed, shit's crazy
Record labels bitch up, wanna hit but, n***as shit on your demo
But make it pop independent, now they sendin' you memos
And rappers ain't rappers, they actors, and actors is fake
Playin' characters from happenin's that never took place
Talkin' 'bout murder and drug traffic in cities and states
But ain't never stayed a day in a Days Inn
And they never been OT flippin OZ's, dog
Gotta be at least be 4'3" to be a OG, dogs
How you claim you hold your weight, but you feather in size?
You ain't tough actin' like you made of leather inside
Never a lie on the rep that was invented by lies
Tough as pleather, I could see the fear of death in your eyes
So you a gangsta, self-proclaimed, grill us alive
Bought 'caine down I-95, bodies in the trunk
With a pump, callin' other n***as a chump 'til they pop open
They trunk, and they down to give you just what you want
Which is proof that, all you ever really do is stunt
What real n***as respects a punk? Not me, n***a
[Interlude]
That's the truth, baby
That's right, did I knock you out the box?
Hahaha, yeah

[Outro]
Kick, kick, kick-kick, kick, kick-kick, kick-kick, kick
Kick-kick-kick-kick-kick, kick-kick the truth
Kick, kick, kick-kick, kick, kick-kick, kick-kick, kick
Kick-kick-kick-kick-kick, kick-kick the truth
Kick, kick, kick-kick, kick, kick-kick, kick-kick, kick
Kick-kick-kick-kick-kick, kick-kick the truth
Kick-kick, ki-, ki-, ki-, ki-
Ki-, ki-, ki-kick, kick the truth
Kick, kick, kick-kick, kick, kick, kick, kick-kick
Kick, kick, kick the truth
Kick the truth