Hell Rell:
Hell Rell is in the muthafuckin' building
(Move over) Dipset bitch
Haha, okay, ride wit' me
Purple City, Harlem stand up
Oh the BX is under my deodorant (fa' sho')
Weeks Ave I see you

Verse 1
Hell Rell:
When that Mac come out
Your dude run run, your crew run run
It's Hell muthafuckin' Rell and Mr. Two-Gun Un
And this goes out to those who choose to use disrespectful views on the kid that carry Rugers
The kid that be havin' jewelers deep-freezing his wrist
Narc's came man, I was deep deep in a bitch
And I'm stackin' off the hard (hard)
You cats ain't on your job
I wake like “Let's see, which rapper I'ma rob”
And they label me a troublemaker
Cuz I'm a rider
Death to all you fuck niggaz
Don't let me find ya
Sizzurp and Cristal got me grippin' this pistal
Like everybody get down nigga
Chi-chi-chi-bow-bow
I'm the hardest regardless to all my charges
Court cases is irrelevant
I'm the shit and you smelling it
How could you deny me, I'm spittin' true facts
I really touch paper, not talkin' a few stacks
These niggaz think they tough cuz they yell a few “Blaaatts”
Or walk wit' a new bop, we got some new pots
I see some 40 bigs, I blew off homie wig
And run up in his house and kidnap his only kid
And the gangstas that you look up to, look up to me (Yup)
And all the hustlers in the kitchen man, they cook up to me
That's why they standing over the stove as Hell Rell dumpin' (Yeah)
And even up north I got the jail cells jumpin'
Yeah

Hook:
Purple City, Purple City Byrdgang Apocalypse
Dip-Dip-Dipset bitch
Purple City, Purple City Byrdgang Apocalypse
Dip-Dip-Dipset bitch
(Repeat)

Verse 2
Un Kasa:
This for all my niggaz on the Weeks block
That let the heat pop
And they crew screwin' a bad bitch in the peach drop
And down the block, they got the valves with the peach top
And we got that fire to make the keys pop
I'm like a young B.I.G., Rell like a teen Pac
Mixed with some soldier slips
Smokin' on some potent piff
Scoop your baby-mother up, make her blow the dick
While I'm blowing a spliff
Y'all should know it's the kid
They call me Kas' or Mr. Crayon Box
Jump out the Coupe when the Tom crayon fox
Jump out the Coupe, big chain, crayon rocks
Jump out, red and blue guns, crayon Glocks
We them niggaz, they are not
This our block and we gon' rock
Or we gon' pop like canons on the Fourth of July
We get high, y'all get by
Bitch niggaz get extorted for pie
Pass them birds or it's off wit' your life
Your mother, your daughter, your niece
Now they life is up for a price

Hook:

Verse 3
Smoke-N-Numbers:
Fuckin' clown, come through wit' your new jokes
Numbers, pass me the bat, I'm feelin' like pool host
[Chill, Dizzie relax, these niggaz get too close
Pull the Ruger, poof, I'm a shooter like Kool Coach]
Them F-U boys run around strapped while
[We smack ‘em ‘round]
Back a nigga down Shaq style
[Homie we just better than the rest
Berettas and the Techs in the lever
We the letter after F]
Nigga soft as Snuggle, by night he buff
Internet gangstas [Soundboard thugs] (Yeah)
‘Round town niggaz serve them things
Got water in all sizes like Poland Spring
[Listen homie, why you act like you squeeze guns
When you a Big Mac when the beef comes
Successfully see ones]
Straight under, and I don't who was ambulance
Smoke-N-Numbers, Undisputed Tag-Team Champions nigga