[Verse 1: Juice]
Overload and overgone
Time to get this paper on
Fetti Mozarelli, modern day Fonzerelli
Or DMX and Belly
I'm still smooth though
Rick Rude ho, never played the fool roll
Psychedelic renegade, higher than the other day
Free your mind, or get trapped in yesterday
Eyes low, tell me what you wanna do
OG puffer, nigga, I will not lose
I toke a lot, I loc a lot
With the Flocka, word up to Big Poppa
You Craig Mack floppers
I'm smokin' like a rasta
New York diesel, get proper
I'm cliché, but this is my forte
We stay strapped and I'm packin' like Green Bay
I'm a giant, André, rap goliath
I'm a monster, no Kanye required
[Verse 2: Meech]
Ready to Die, track 17, I'm suicidal
Ran out of dutchie, so we used the paper out the Bible
Let me say that one more time
Ready to Die, track 17, I'm suicidal
Ran out of dutchie, so we used the paper out the Bible
Smokin' exotic piff, with an exotic bitch
Eyes low, chronic spliff
Pussy wet, watch it drip
The high life I'm livin'
It ain't sinnin' if you winnin'
Everyday is haze blunts, scandalous women
True talk, I spit the art
Huntin' money is my favorite sport
I walk the walk, and pussy's somethin' I never bought
I need a bad bitch, with really good features
We too high up, you never ever reach us
Nosebleed sex, I fuck her in the bleachers
You know I like them chink eyes, thick thighs
Shirley Temple weave, hair look like curly fries
Who needs a gimmick? Got real nigga features
Who needs a diamond ring when there's crystals on ya reefer?
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