The Truth back, let's get to business
It's something unfamiliar, call it a foreign image
Paint heavily leaking, I guess it wasn't finished
Riding with something freaky, they tell me she the business
The chain clear, stones never cloudy
60 Racks or better, nigga ask about me
Certified gangster, bitch don't ever doubt me
Welcome to the streets, you can't get in without me
I presidential Obama painted the 4's black
Chopper in the Chevy, top rolled back
My life a motion picture, bitch I ain't gotta act
I send em to your section, nigga hold that
It's raining scattered bullets, too late to run for cover
I drain em like Kobe then I evacuate to the gutter
On something that's poking with locs and a trunk that like to stutter
I rank as the king of the city, it ain't gon' be another
Uh, I'm sending shots, it's happy hour
I shoot from close range, I'mma need a shower
Brains in the sink, body on the counter
Women and the kids, leave em how I found em
I'm a real nigga, stand still nigga
I cut your face, have you looking like Seal nigga
Then I pull your card, then I deal with ya
Gamble with your life, is this your lucky night?
My bitch so fucking right, every night I fuck her twice
Big boy money bitch, pockets on Charlie Weisz
Tatted up, I'm scarred for life
Tell the cops I know all my rights
Got choppers, I don't mean Harley bikes
Drop em like a bag of ice
Shades dark, flag bright, wallet chain chrome horse
Hair to the fucking back, call that shit Rosa Parks
Dr. Carter man, I gave hip hop open heart
Young Money baby, AKA Noah's Ark
