[Verse 1]
Thought I was Bruce Wayne when I fly by
Circle in that blue sky
And this Blue Dream make me lean but I'm too high
There's two guys you can be: a real nigga or a bitch-ass
Niggas think that I'm both of them, but the 2nd one will get bitch-slapped
Spit raps continuous, kick back ridiculous
Kick it like it ain't another MC within distance or
Vicinity. You get it, G? You niggas never finished me
Replenishing the swagger, epitome of stupidity
Walking to St. Alfred's, blow about a hundo
Only got like two caps. I don't give a fuck ho!
See me? Say "What's up, bro?" or you on some wack shit
Backflip on tracks with my snares and hi-hats, bitch
Made this instrumental bumping through your speakers
Walking through my mental, you'd say that your feet hurt
My tweeters and subs blare, got long hair and don't care
My song here, your song there. You gone player. "It's on, then"

[Hook]
Jamo in my cup, off Ciroc I lean
I be buzzing, yeah cousin, I'mma rage, nah mean?
What's up, bitch? What's up, ho? (x2)
Fake friends and enemies the same I seen
Ya'll be stuntin', I be bussin' at they frame, nah mean?
What's up, bitch? What's up, ho? (x2)

[Verse 2]
I rap about hella dope shit and I always get paid
Even if it's small or just change, nigga I won't beg or pitch mayne
So if you dead or sickly, ain't no handouts or sympathy
Come see my feature film in 3-D and tell me you get me. Nigga, please
Lyin' ass, mad enough to kill you and make yo ass lie in grass
Supplying that lyrical warfare from Zion, man. A lion, fam
No crying and no bitchin', ain't no lyin' in my vision
I just speak what's on my mind, they just mad because they listen
Kicking them words mayne, for sure mayne
No standing still or curb lane
Ho niggas ain't real, nobody was down except Tre and Kirk mayne
Man, they just too weak to rap against me because they shit sauce
A big boss, now everybody and they Mom wanna rap like Rick Ross
That wool over yo eyes, nigga how could you miss that?
There ain't no talent when they kick that, so I ain't gonna rap or spit that wack
And stereotypical flow on this beat, there's no gain
Nigga, I'm an MC to the fullest so to me they're so lame... (You suck!)

[Hook]

[Bridge: Naledge]
Eastside, get the money
Brainiac, get the money
Naledge born, get the money
Never chase hoes, chase money

[Verse 3: Naledge]
Niggas on that Hank Gathers shit, niggas they be down to ball
I got paper like the Muslims final call
YouTube era, you can track it, I ain't lyin' to ya'll
I just spent a grand on my girl to get designer drawers
I be in Supreme just like Diana Ross
We ain't talkin' dentist shit when we say we down to floss
Boss shit, no Ricky
No undertaker, chicks dig me
In the club, Jamo, we be gettin' tipsy
Niggas rollin' blunts, fat bitch. Call it Missy
He-he-hehe how, he-he-hehe how
Kool Moe, "How You Like Me Now", I be gettin' down
7-trey, Southside of town, I be gettin' round-round
Ridin' round and I'm gettin' it, gettin' it
Yeah, we makin' that spinach, nigga (Yop)

[Hook]