"Then who will beat him?"

"I don't know. You know I can't reveal that sort of thing to you"

"Well, I haven't got my money yet"

Head splash, caught him...

(Eight million stories or something)

Yeah, eight million stories, ****

(Yo yo yo, yo)

Word up

From them hard streets of Norfolk (Stop fucking around, man)

Motherfucker, to New York

All over the world, ****

We win

All day, every day, **** (Put that shit away, ****)

You bitch-ass ****, watch what happens

Check the shit, yo, ayo, ayo (Get on it man, for real)

They found his head splashed, caught him by the side of the building

He had a mask on, four-five, "Why did you kill him?"

It was supposed to happen, clicked the shit back

"Yo, this is the deal, you get on the floor and lay in the grass"

Had me handcuffed, take two puffs of the kush

"I see you out here, your name's real, can't let you get touched"

He had a team, Japanese fiend, all of them greened down

Cheeba lit, blood on his Adidas was thick

One second homie, walked over, weapon was boney

Long-nose joint, "Hold him", grabbed the **** head, broke his Roley (Damn, ****)

"Where the blow shorty?"

Shorty start smiling, "Y'all **** is puss"

"Yo, Lex, these ****, ain't vets, they gush" ("Fuck that!")

Chunk of meat flew off his cheek bone, broken teeth

Had a hole in his 'Lo shirt and took all his weed ("Gimme that!")

Untied him, he fell, legs weak, and son wouldn't tell

Now it gets deep, son start falling asleep

They woke him back up, smacked him with the Mac, "Where ya slut?"

"I heard you copped a new Beamer and them glasses is rough"

They was the Furla joints, eighteen karats, bought 'em right in Brazil

He had the steel on him, **** went savage

They had him spread out, T position, opened his jeans up

("Oh shit, this **** had a gun on him!")

Shot him in the leg-bone, he rose up like Kung Tut ("Ahh!")

Still riffing, this why for real my ****'ll still get it

All of us yelling, "He ill wit it"

Mouth bloody, muddy Gucci joints on

Them shits was nine hundred

Couldn't wait to kill him, his sons wanted it

Champion hoodie was gone

They broke his neck in like five places

Pushed him down the rail and then skinned his face

Yo, chill, ****, chill

Police, police

The bullhorn...

*sirens wailing*

—Ayo, son, **** better start flushing the fucking toilet, man. Better stop leaving ya dirty fucking Fila hoodies around, man. You, man! Stop it, man!

—Yo, son, ayo, they just fucking killed this ****, my ****! Hit this **** in the back of his fucking head, man. The **** whole fucking head disintegrated, ****. It's a hundred police outside right now, man. They running through the building, man

—Yo, listen, B. Ayo! Y'all **** gotta shut the fuck up, man. Then you wonder why **** be getting busted? Man, y'all **** is yelling, man. We in the back cooking, B. Come on, man.. What the fuck? Langston, go to the store. I'm stilling waiting for the baking soda, man