text: Okay, I got it, copy
  20/20 but I cant see nobody
  One eye open, Illuminati
  This might be the verse that make em drop me
  Aint makin friends, we just makin hobbies
  No, that werent my girl, that was just a hobby
  Call up 50, tell em load up the lobby
  Elevator up, no need to find me, yeah, yeah
  X-ray vision, see through you niggas
  Newspaper stand, we press the issue
  We aint sendin shots, we launchin missiles
  Right up at your hood up north
  Checkin Third Ward, Im goin mental
  Fuckin up my room, Ive been rackin up incidentals
  Cookin on a tune, Ive been cheffin up instrumentals
  Nothin else to do when youre ridin in the
  When you ridin in the, in the back of the back seat
  Driver run the miles up like Im runnin a track meet
  Gotta watch my back now, cause these niggas at me
  All black in a Benz when I pull up on you
  They dont want to see me in the ends, in the ends
  Let me catch you creeping here past 10, in the ends
  From a tribe of check-a-hoe like Indian
  Oh yeah, oh yeah
  Oh yeah, Im a dog with the dog pound
  Oh yeah, La Flame checkin in with the heat now
  Oh yeah, havin to eat now
  Oh yeah, you went Whiteside on the rebound
  Oh yeah, oh yeah
  Oh yeah, running through the 713 with the check
  Our necks iced out got a whole lotta bet, yeah
  Hit it from the don whole lotta young respect
  Oh yeah, copping hella dome on my jet
  Oh yeah, god dammit got a whole new collect
  Yeah, yeah, Ive been sipping got my home in a wreck
  Oh yeah, Ima do the deal now
  In the ends we might come and kick the door down
  Oh yeah, when I follow through you oh now
  Oh yeah, she gon hit the damn C note when I pull up on you