(Superiors Music)

Who want to bet us that they can't fuck with us

Stack cheddar forever, live treacherous, all the etceteras

'Til the death of us, me and my confidantes, we shine

We make the ambiance, you **** just rhyme

You little **** need guidance, you barking up the wrong trees

Pissing on the wrong hydrants, on my hyphens

I grew up around violence, you grew up playing violins

In your hood silence, where I'm from sirens

They just killed this vibe, they just killed this vibe

There's something about killing shit that makes us feel alive

We feed off your energy, we see you on that Kenny G

Just tooting your own horn, do your thing my N-I-G

Whenever you ven aqui to that mighty NYC

We gon' check that name you claim, bring your yawk and I.D

We take it the wrong way, all gold everything

One gold watch, two gold chains, give me all those, everything

Y'all don't want to bump heads, Ocho, Everlane

Them boys will leave you butt naked, the mall closed and everything

The Streets Is Watching asking if you gon' reply to them

Seems like I woke up sleeping giants, Eli and them

A major comeback up from my minor setback

But still, in all we living just thinking about the get back

The get back, the get back, the get back, the get back

The get back, the get back, the get back, the get back

I crack a smile knowing God has a day for me

Until that day comes, I slay these **** faithfully

The get back, the get back, the get back, the get back

The get back, the get back, the get back, the get back

I'm like Nino with the Uzi back of the motorcycle, heading

To get back at them Italians who killed Keisha at the wedding

I'm like Doughboy looking for Ricky's killer, one last soldier

**** who turn they backs on me, turn your punk ass over

Y'all smoked my cousin Harold, now I'm in the Camaro

Loving and Happiness playing, me and my dog with this double barrel

38, 40 belows, live or die, motherfucker

I'm Pac, you Radames, "Riverside Motherfucker!"

The get back, everybody better get back, tell my **** in the jet black

Until the seats let back on your jet back, if you're a gambling man, you could bet that

It's a sure thing, not just a New York thing or a rich or a poor thing

It's a lace-your-boots-pull-your-drawstring, who-wants-to-go-to-war thing

It's a who gon' protect your thing, who really want it more thing

Putting legends in coffins and some bullet holes in the door thing

It's a nobody-saw-things, street-code-not-a-law thing

It's kids that wasn't taught things, old ladies like poor thing

Poor thing, and the get-back is important

Poor thing for the dead homies we poor 'paign

Like what you say while it's cocked back to him

Guess what goes around comes around got back to him

A major comeback up from my minor setback

But still, in all we living just thinking about the get back

The get back, the get back, the get back, the get back

The get back, the get back, the get back, the get back

I crack a smile knowing God has a day for me

Until that day comes, I slay these **** faithfully

The get back, the get back, the get back, the get back

The get back, the get back, the get back, the get back

Now these motherfuckers smoked your goddamn cousin in front of you, ****!

Blew his head off in front of your face, and you ain't gon' do shit?

You acting like a little bitch right now, ****

Man, fuck that! I ain't letting that shit ride!

We gon' go in there and smoke all these motherfuckers I don't care who the fuck out there!

Goddamnit! Is you down, ****?