[Yung Joc]. What it is man (sup?). Yung Joc Block Entertainment. Yeah you wan' know somethin? (What'chu wanna know nigga?). I'ma take this motherfuckin time to let y'all niggaz know. I'm tired of playin games.. I'm tired of playin wit'chu man. (Preach on) Y'all niggaz comin up short on your money. Your re-up shit ain't right (nope nope). Your grams off nigga get that shit right. (Tell 'em shawty) Let me talk to y'all. This ain't make believe so why the fuck is you playin. You better listen close to what the fuck I'm sayin. Cause really all it takes is a couple grand. Like AT&T I reach out and I touch a man. Or I can let it go cause it ain't nuttin man. But naw it's the principle so fuck what you sayin. E'ry dollar I want it e'ry dime I need that. So when it's time to break bread gimme no feedback (shhh). Cause you don't want to piss me off. And I get to poppin like we poppin Cristal. See I cain't help it that's just how we get down. Let off a couple rounds turn your smile to a frown. Yeahhh I know you think I'm bluffin. 'Til I kick the do' and the goons they rush in. Lay down on the flo' where you keep the coke in. You say "I don't know" then your blood start gushin. [Chorus 2X: Yung Joc]. I done told your ass once (once) told your ass twice (twice). Fuckin with my paper you're fuckin wit'cha life (wit'cha life). Don't play with it (blam) don't play with it (blam). Don't play with it (blam) nigga don't play with it (blam). [Big Gee]. Here he come once again Mr. Murder Man. Smokin on the purple bad pistol in my other hand. Fuckin with my rubberbands get your ass murdered fast. Chop you up and chop ya then stuff ya in a duffel bag. Ride wit'cha in the trunk 'til ya smellin bad. Get your daughter after class ride by snatch her ass. I know a pussy nigga owe me a couple stack. Pop him like he never had but the nigga holdin back (nah). I ain't trippin now I'm lettin 'em pass got that ass. So I'm in the good nigga smokin like a thermostat. Flashin hella stacks pie nigga Pontiac. Actin for these hoes with my money what kinda shit is that?. I ain't feelin that pay me for my fuckin pack. E'ry dime off e'ry zone don't gimme that (nah). See it time for the chrome go on pull it out. Sad Sunday service for the sucker in the parking lot. [Chorus]. [Yung Joc]. Better know the repercussions fuckin with my dividends. Yeah I got a hitman for the hitmen. Leave your baby momma numb and I touch many fans. If ye ain't tryin to see it I suggest you start prayin. All I'm sayin; don't try to play me like I'm soft. Treat you like mosquitoes when I skeet you with that Off. That Joc crawl blood nigga call me Red Cross. Leave your wig leakin like you spilled spaghetti sauce. [repeat 2X]. Fuckin with my paper - ye ain't right. I'ma send them gators - in the middle of the night. Let 'em split your tater - in front your wife. No one can save ya - put out your lights. [Chorus]. [voice speaking over Chorus to end]. C'mon man. That ain't how you do the shit bruh. Out'chea playin with a nigga money and shit. That ain't the shit to be fuckin with. It's hard out'chea in these streets nigga. Fuckin people fuckin wit'cha. Niggaz rattin and shit. That ain't what's up dawg. It's the big dawg Diesel. Yung Joc in the building ya heard me?