Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
T.I.
Performer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Mars
Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Old habit die hard huh
Disrespect will not be disregarded partner
You cross that line I'm going off about mine
Man, woman, and child, no exception homeboy
No disrespect will be tolerated
Come hell or high water
You understand that? Yeah bitch
Bankroll Mafia, hustle gang over everything ****
[Verse 2]
I got fake bitches on my timeline
Sucker **** in my rearview
Wonder why I'm even wasting my time
Even replying to let you know I don't feel you
Fuck em
Dodging nothing but a fed case
Better know it, tired of holding onto dead weight
Going, let it go
And ain't no turning 'round looking back
I swear to God I'ma drop a gem like cooking crack
And sell it hard
I'ma bank head **** to the heart
Tote tools on the boulevard
It's young **** in a stolen car
With expensive ambition and exquisite pistols we showing off
Caught that line and we going off
In Lenox mall, give a damn, who you going call?
You violating, we ain't letting nothing go at all
We demonstrate and leave your brains on the fucking wall
Puss, you disrespectful ****, got that
I ain't never been shot at, and I ain't shot back
Bossed up in a cool whip with a hot gat
And still got stacks from back from, what you know about that?
[Verse 3]
I'm just a project **** on the front steps
And getting money is the concept
By any means, and the belt where the gun kept
I let that whole clip ride, till ain't one left in it
Try me, I'ma handle my business, handle my business
Try me, I'ma handle my business
Try me I'ma handle my business, try me
[Verse 4]
I got fake bitches on my timeline
Hating **** in my rearview
I got naked bitches in the high rise
On the balcony so they could get a clear view
Of the city with my dick up in it
But in the morning won't remember which bitch is it, shit
Ay, I'm too rich for this shit but I'm too real to be tried ****
Going against me just like going against God
And I ain't gotta make excuses
I don't fuck with whoever, what you wanna do about it
Thought not, fuck around get crossed out
You caught slipping roll down on your ass, 45 start spitting
Going be a long day **** I start tripping
Don't be sticking to the script, drive-by audition, what's up
What you do for dough, guess you do it too slow
And by the looks of your stuff, you ain't doing enough
I'm popping wheelies in the front, leave you in the dust
Kick in your door masked up like, who in the fuck?
Boy you a ho ho, not just a little piece of pussy
Better watch your ass talking, you don't me ****, hold up
[Verse 5]
I'm just a project **** on the front steps
And getting money is the concept
By any means, and the belt where the gun kept
I let that whole clip ride, till ain't one left in it
Try me, I'ma handle my business, handle my business
Try me, I'ma handle my business
Try me, I'ma handle my business, try me
[Verse 6]
All I wanna do is go and chill
Take my mind off the ones I wanna go and kill
Yeah, I'm a daddy, love my little girls
But I'll still check a bitch like 'Pac did Lauryn Hill
Hey, I ain't grow into it, I was born real
Used to sell crack to the children of the corn
I'm the reason why your mama warned you
Pray you don't die before you make it to the street corner
[Verse 7]
I'm just a project **** on the front steps
And getting money is the concept
By any means, and the belt where the gun kept
I let that whole clip ride, till ain't one left in it
Try me, I'ma handle my business, handle my business
Try me, I'ma handle my business
Try me, I'ma handle my business, try me

