Aiyyo shorty, yo that's my word

Oh, y'all smellin', y'all piss now y'all think y'all gold

Yo anybody get caught playin'

Over here, I'm returnin' em

That's my word that they be blasted

Anything from two-twenty to one-forty, that's mine

Y'all need to step the fuck off

Y'all niggaz ain't crazy for real

Yo, the fiends ain't comin' fast enough

There is no cut that's pure enough

I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload

Product must be sold to you

I'm deep down in the back streets in the heart of Medina

About to set off somethin' more deep than a misdemeanor

Under the subway, waitin' for the train to make noise

So I can blast a nigga and his boys for what

He pushed up on the block and made the dope sales drop

Like the crashin' of Dow Jones stock

I had to connect to cross seals to catch more mil's

Than ho-bitches got birth control pills

I'm in the park, settin' up a deal over blunt fire

Bum niggaz sleepin' on the bench, they had em wired

Peeped my convo, the address of my condo

And how I changed a nigga name to John Doe

And while we set up camp, we got vamp

Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his fuckin' fangs apart

Snake got smoked on the set like Brandon Lee

Blown out the frame like Pan Am flight 103

He got swung on, his lungs was torn

The kingpin just castled with his rook and lost a pawn

A regular on the block that played look-out

For playin' predator with a glock, he should have took out

No neighborhood is rough enough

There is no clip that's full enough

I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload

Product must be sold to you, yo

Fiends ain't comin' fast enough

There is no cut that's pure enough

I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload

Product must be sold to you

It's mandatory that I supply all my troops with mega firearms

Big apes and spread em out like crops on a farm

To get cream, sometimes they repaint the scene

Like the last episode on gates and other niggaz

Plant bombs 'til the smoke from the blast becomes thick

And flows through all they knew, he's gun sick

His glock clicks, like high-heeled shoes on parquay floors

Mad sick, stand on hills and invade wars

Filthy foul, shovelin' dirt, he's out to hurt

For instance, chop off hands, attack worth

His idols would lock down airports and extort

Some import, catchin' ten percent of what the fiends snort

Up in the ski resorts, up in hills

They move keys and had skis makin' drops on snowmobiles

The plan was to expand, catch seven figures, release triggers

And live large and bigger than my nigga

Who promised his moms a mansion with mad room

She died and still put a hundred grand in her tomb

Open wounds, he hid behind closed doors

And still organized his crime and drug wars

Fiends ain't comin' fast enough

There is no cut that's full enough

I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload

Product must be sold to you

No neighborhood is rough enough

There is no clips that's full enough

I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload

Product must be sold to you

The peers that come is tight enough

There is no niggaz that's fuckin' up

I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload

Product must be sold to you