Remember the Titans

[Intro: Fabolous] Uh Uh Yeah (J. Cardim) Yeah Yeah [Verse 1: Fabolous] These niggas losing their minds, you find that there's no reward They say they already home, it’s really clear they abroad They sound like they boxed in, it’s not just where they record There’s a cost to be a boss they can’t clearly afford Swear to the Lord, there's guns like a audience You put on a show, my .40 clearly applauds Sitting fifth row, I might appear to be bored Plotting on a Kanye, but screaming, "Where’s my award?" Balling out of control, never won an ESPY 'Bout to buy a black ghost and name that shit SP Flow outta this world, I’m coming for my Moon Man You niggas slide back like that walking on the moon dance No glitter glean, handgun with a beam Have some boys follow you, Street Fam, Twitter team Like you could fuck with me, oh did it seem? Dr. King and Def Jam ain't the only ones with a dream I’m a grown-ass man, this kid a teen You’re a spoof of me like if hip hop did a Scream Audi coupe looking good so I went and copped it Got that TT popping like a trending topic My ride's matte black, my pride is that jacked It might get ya dog shot, even a cat smacked Anyway though, styles don’t apply to me Jeff Goldblum couldn’t be more fly than me Shorty say, "Right after the suck, fuck, poof" You hit it on the head girl, duck duck goose You shoulda got the message that I chuck up deuce Break 'em off and leave it, you seen my fucked up tooth It’s fuck a bitch, it’s more fish in the aquarium I rarely hear no, like when niggas ask you to marry them There’s no lights in the place you buy your jewelry from Funeral Fab, I’m just here to bury them [Verse 2: Joe Budden] Reporting live from the Beacon, booth tired from the beating Had foreplay all day, prepping the beat and the mic for a threesome With my vocal bi-coastal, speeding 'til the ride's totaled Mr. Wi-Fi, out a franchise, go to magic, standby local’s Watch the track bust once I show my dick size to the Pro-Tools I teach you how to have models screaming, "Get behind me" E-pills and Maybachs ain't gon' matter if your tip is tiny Never mind me, we could get knee-deep in the beef Seek me with the heat but you’ll need more to keep me on a leash Here’s a CC for the peeps that wanna see me in the streets Invest in Rockports and be easy on your feet Give a few hammers, a few semi’s and a few snubs To a few Crips, couple vampires and true Bloods Gambling in casinos, have a honey handing me my c-notes To her, I'm a modern-day Gambino, I’m careful every step I take You the nigga walk up in a shootout with some pepper spray That’d be the last mistake you ever made Me, I chop his head off from a rooftop And race it downstairs just to see if I can catch his fade Like groceries when I’m shooting at fags Make sure the bread's separated and put the fruits in a bag Withstand the hatred, dudes is fallin off doin all they can to save it But everybody's run stops, ask Brandon Jacobs What y’all call swag to me is all faggotry Fours want blat at me, that’d equal more casualties Abort the strategy or get attacked with that Duracell They put in your back, now that's assault and battery You can keep the bitching to yourself There’s beams on every burner, these lasers, a petition wouldn’t help What good is having shooters if they the type that miss? Where I’m from, better be careful where you drive that whip Niggas put they life at risk for pies they flip In my town, Ben Affleck wouldn't try that shit And if he did he’d get turned around, burnt down Tell the new jacks it’ll be a while 'fore they eligible to earn the crown [Verse 3: Lloyd Banks] Acid out the baggie, this is more than dope, flawless flow Fucking off a sign every horoscope done wore my robes Strapping up the corner cold, critical Unquestioned, my opponents know I shoot like Kapono, watch me own the show Comatose, toasted, getting money while I roam the coast Stones and boats, mansion homes and hoes I deserve ‘em both, overdose Time to earn my votes, watch me turn the volts Voltage through a meter, this electric chair, danger Yeah, I see ya, now make way 'fore it turn to diarrhea Hear a microphone will give you 3 of everything I wear yeah Models by the pair, swear, bottles, private Lear, steer Style that's outta here, rare, thousands by the chair, square Sleep with me, you came here, war with me is scary Get beat silly trying to lamp here, better bring your fury heat I got a drop damp here, niggas try me barely No one breathes, I need an ant's ear, pressure's necessary Got my mind on the cheddar, kill my haters together Bury 'em in abundance and starve their families stomach’s Paper come in my thumbage, brand new fifties and hundreds On point, just like the drum is, I’m warning them baby mothers Got the hunger of a broke rapper Kill you while I’m rolling up then smoke after Catch you at your show, snatch ya, empty out the dough faster Bentley off the scene, magnum Mo' splasher, four packer Southside nigga spitting coke at ya! [Verse 4: Royce da 5’9"] Nickel! This is for the fronters and the naysayers I’m about to scare away the drummers and the bass players They say I’m out of my league on this one, so when I get done I want you to cut your fuckin' ears off and Twitpic ‘em! Lord, I want you to leave this vicinity You gon' be around here 'bout long as Justin Bieber’s virginity This is Jesus identity, mixed with weed, Hennessy, Kennedy, King Mixed with a kill or be killed killer regime, illest you seen, switch Y’all write all that hard shit then you fall right off, it’s horrible My oracle is all I offer, so before I borrow your 'Won’t be here tomorrow' flow, sorry, I will prob'ly Adiós my body wit' somebody toast, this shit just practice Sickest rapping Baptist, kill your pastor Steal your Chapstick, after that make you kiss a cactus Then take your ho, make the ho give the whole clique fellatio Everyone, that wasn’t the whole entourage on HBO Then after that, I tell her, "I can’t do much with you, shawty! I just found out I could fly to Dubai and hire Buffie the Body!" Don't call us if the bitches ain’t flawless If they are then we can hang like Aretha Franklin bra-less The drunk me can box like a sober you The sober me be more nervous than Waka Flocka in the voting booth We beef like being deep and dumping K’s You beef like Lady Gaga and her stylist Y’all get together to look good in front of a bunch of gays My feng shui is a pump in the desert You’ll come up shorter than an Asian jumping out of a trunk in the desert While my wolfpack looks for strippers and cocaine Niggas snitching, it’s a shame, we call 'em male tattlers Fiends touching they noses more than URL battlers It’s hard to spit saliva when you spit fire, so I’ll just Pour sugar in your gas tank, put a banana in your tailpipe Ah ha, so the car can fit the driver