Mov-mov-mov-mov-movin in your chucks. We come through extra whylin. And y'all love it who don't like sex & violence. You got a camera phone send a picture and a text. Fiends want dough tricks want sex. Bitches want dick pimps want a grip. Motherfuckers wanna know when you gon' slip. Man you rich you still kick it in the hood?. Sellin coke and fuckin bitches real good?. Don't let 'em fool ya these bitches ain't innocent. They'll change the game and make the gangsters start pimpin women. He don't want her she's just a decoy. You've gotta use her you know hoes love the d-boy. So let 'em do ya put them hookers to work. You want to save the hoe so he took her to church. These bitches slangin lootin hookin recruitin. Work the credit cards stealin cookin shootin. To all my pimps (sli-sli-sli-slidin in your gators). And all my gangsters (gangsters movin-movin in your chucks). (Mov-mov-mov-mov-movin in your chucks). Have you ever seen fluent flow... Well this is how you do it though... Man I don't give a fuck... Fuck it how I ride slide in the bucket. Trip I told this nigga to hold his bitch. Come equipped but don't trip nigga mold his bitch. The bitch bomb I think he in posession of mine. Cause the bitch is tryin to put my dick on top of her mind. I'm too G'd up to play games with bustaz. Got somethin to start trippin niggaz lanes and bustin. I'm Gotti motherfucker Chucks and T's. Nickels and semi-automatic ninas and beams. I don't really give a fuck about your hood my nigga. I'm just tryin to make all bad good my nigga. Got gators for the pimpin Chucks on the daily. I ain't trippin off these busta niggaz bitches gotta pay me. Yeah beotch!. Always poppin that shit like you want to. But you don't say a fuckin thing when I come through (beotch!). I call the shot and somebody gon' touch you. But you ain't even half a fag nigga fuck you (ya beotch!). Always talkin 'bout what a nigga gon' do. But you a hoe so nobody don't believe you (yeah beotch!). Lightin it up for the world to see. The return of Mr. X to the Z damn. To my niggaz in them Cadillacs swingin that battle axe. A million dollars every 90 days imagine that. My habitat is black ramsacked with heavy gats. Hit a nigga so hard that his head gon' touch his back. Dog set it off motherfuck them haters. I keep on pimpin for my paper in my now or later {gators}. Made my mark for my spark terror tear you apart. You better have you some heart comin out here after dark. If you gon' start you must finish nigga handle yo' business. Because you spoke like a menace you got sent off to the dentist. I don't be goin back and forth like full court tennis. We gon' handle what we gon' handle have you walkin in sandals. In a hospital robe back of yo' body exposed. I stay in militant mode I staple holes to your clothes. Because it's one for the hustle two for transition. For my brothers in position still cookin in the kitchen. Beotch!. (Mov-mov-mov-mov-movin in your chucks)