"Niggas bit off Nas shit" -
"Admit it, you bit it" -
"Niggas bit off Nas shit, niggas, niggas, bit off, Nas shit" -
"Admit if, you bit it, bit it" -
You can be a ridah and ride, or a coward and hide
Either way you go against me, you still gon die
I got four macs, a few nines, Im ready for beef
You wanna talk, it aint about money, then let it be brief
I need a drop for when its a hot, a hummer for when its cold
An ill attorneys in my corner when these fake niggas fold
The shit I kick fuck with niggas mentally, makes them wanna mention me
And see me doing a quarter century in the penitentiary
Nastradamus predicted 50s the future, thats a fact money
I run up on your workers with the mac, like where that pack money
Im a tell yall what Papi told me
I got what you need, 19,5 a key
I stay catching a stunt, frontin in somethin mean
And Ill clap any nigga for the right amount of cream
Run up on them all with the same problem solver
Beat up ass, tape on the handle, trey eight revolver. What!
Projects too hot, niggas better hope we never hit rock
Cause then we gonna run up in your spot
Screamin get the fuck on the floor, give us the Ro
Aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo
Im like Sugar Shane Mosley, it aint no beef
Youre staring, a ticket holder that sits in row three
Next to Ron Artest and Kobe
Yo I woulda went pro too, then I let them phillies slow me
Im like a black mans asthma, seeking a pump
Breathin deeper when Im creeping up
Yall need to fuck with the tightest, I stick niggas
Ensevilitus, leavin whole families in silence
My virus is obvious, past on to most rap fiends
Un cured, aint no vaccine
Last seen at the automatic teller machine, maxing out
Or in the studio booth, blacking out
Its Con Ed style, real twisted, I disappear on some Blair Witch shit
Comin back Im rich kid
Either or, you cant stop me with my feet in the door
Or walk away from the street or the morgue, play your part nigga.
"Niggas bit off Nas" - Ghostface Killah
"Admit it, you bit it" - G. Dep
"Tell these niggas somethin God" - Ghostface Killah
What, yo
I disturb niggas and white boys, with five pointed stars
Tatted on they arms, pimp your moms, like Im Magic Don Juan
From Queens to Hong Kong, weed in the bong
We smoke that, leave our minks on the coat rack
Those that plot on me, nine times outta ten the nine is on me
Feds search the God, but nothin they find on me
When I rap dont wait to clap applaud sooner
Unless you hate a nigga like George Bush Jr., I bring awkward to you
Porsche maneuvers thru the city like New York sewers
Stinkin up the air, Central Park, horse manure
Rims is 22 inches, Benz suspensions
22 inch dick when Im pimpin
Impotent you niggas get me sick, wanna be soundin like
You knowin my arithmetic, but we dont sound alike
50 Cent with Braveheart-ed, we ride to the grave depart us
You fake niggas imitate what I started, lets go
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