Huddy Combs bring it home we don't stopJimmy Jones all alone we don't stopLoon crime fam' we don't stopMeeno NRB we don't stopTo my man Blinky Blink we don't stopMy sis Baby Stase she don't stopKiller Cam' Cardan they the fam'One two we don't stopI know you thinkin' how many nigga's he got?Or what how many nigga's is hot?Yo yeah you a fake wanna be rich nigga, bitch stickerYou know, that get on the stand and snitch stinkerSo when Cardie read the press, I dream of successI want cream to invest plus a Beam' and a Lex'So I sold bags of Dutch, the cash and plusMy dad's a lush, so all we really had was us, what?Wit me? it started like this, sip a six, get some chipsAnd about a half a brickNow the whole team's in the mix facin' a three-to-six'Cause they got the DA believin' this shitSo we handcuffed in back of the bus for some dustLife in Harlem World shouldn't be so toughIt's hot at home, mamma's got a block on the phoneCouldn't call my man Pete so I called Huddy CombYo, MeenoYo, HudOn the low, here's the verdictA nigga tried to front on me, pard', I wanna murderI want the nigga jaw broken, chest peeled wide openTell Blink get on the next thing smokin'Shit, I recognize that whipDidn't he do a drive by on the strip?Got caught, couldn't do five so he snitched?What type of guy's this? Look in his eyesHe's a bitchMase, remember when we had his ride in the mix?His girl start to cry, he took the side of his chickLike we some nigga's that lie on our hitsWho you forget when you was suckin' and fuckin'Now the war's on, we buckin' and duckin blackMase pulled his truck in backBlood rushin', spark the hydro, jumped inside the tie hoMase drive slow, and they go five oLook out the window be sure we wasn't followedNo observers, whew! I just got away wit' murderYo, you ain't got to front for me, my gun pop tooNigga pop me? Nigga pop youYo, don't shorty right there look familiar?Matter of fact, while back used to deal wit' herYou wouldn't believe all the things that honey didYo, that's the same one throw the money out the cribI liked it lot better when she came from VenezuelaBut she spent too much cheddar so yo, I had to hit herBut yo, I know her friend ChariseShe mad bad from BaghdadCarry lotta money in Glad bagShe doin' runs for Willie GumUsed to think that bitch was slickBut found out she was really dumbShe really from Philly's hunt of be more'Bout to blow her spot like C-4Never see me poorSo why this bitch fuckin' wit' me forKnowin' that my life is up and down like see-sawFor days you argue and go through the phaseYou blaze, you throw shade, now she hate yo' waysNo feelings, that's while the hoes you stealin'Creepin', sneakin' in your pocket while you sleepin'Freakin' off on the Major DeganWit' your new Rican every single week and it's sentimentalUnderstand what you been throughYou fuck a friend, she don't hold it against youYeah, nigga, what nigga, touch nigga, fuck niggaWhat chu want nigga? What chu want, what chu got?Uh, what chu need? What chu got? Uh, what chu shoot?What chu got? What?Harlem World we don't stopMother fucker, put your deal on itMother fucker, put a mil' on itPut yo' fuckin' ice grill on itPut a mother fuckin' mil' on itNiggas can't fuck wit' my cliqueWho wanna put the money up?I hear alot a niggas talkin'But who wanna put they deal on it?I hear alot a niggas talkin'But who wanna put a mil on it?Y'all niggas ain't sayin' shitYo' Blink, back the Benz upGet from 'round me, nigga