[Intro: 38 Spesh]
It's the motherfucking Trust huh
Yeah, huh, ayo
[Verse 1: 38 Spesh & Ransom]
I go to war in beast mode
Extended clip on a .44 is a cheat code
I get bread and get head from freak hoes
But don't sleep in the bed with 'em, like they my street clothes
[Ransom's part]
Let's reload, you can't be a renegade with a weak soul
You'll die without a reasonable doubt for trying to repeat Hov
[Spesh's part]
He said he wanna rob my line, for some kilos
I'm shooting behind my line, like free throws
[Ransom's part]
What we chose, an elaborate enterprise to incentivize
No genocide, I'm dirty as Puff when he pushed Jen aside
Defend your pride, you see my shine popping off in the night club
Excite thugs, but numbers don't lie, women and men'll lie
You been advised and I don't mince words much I deserve such
Summertime, preparing for winter, getting my furs fluffed, you heard what?
[Spesh's part]
They said cocaine was my first crush
Every time I break a brick, I get a surplus
Trust, been locked since a shorty
Can't be my man running with niggas that's not for me
Huh, before you get popped with this .40
I ask, "Is you dying with the opp like Naughty"
Huh, my life is a top story
I throw a rat from the window of the top story
I don't just grab one brick, I cop forty
If it's five of y'all on one brick, that's a block party
[Ransom's part]
What you got for me? I aim for your soul but I am not Tory
I stop glory, I squeeze, I ain't even freeze when the cops caught me
Let's not bore me, I been a drink champ before the ink stamp
These bullets interrupt when you speaking, I call them shots N.O.R.E
You not Horry, this ain't game six and you're not a big shot
You probably picked locks, sold some weed in your mama's ziplocs
Nigga kick rocks, I'm known for sparring
Pay in full or bury your bones in Harlem
They don't feed us, nigga we 'posed to part 'em
[Verse 2: Che Noir & Ransom]
Smoke the stardom, a fast thinker just made me slow to karma
I paint a canvas with weapons, it's like a poem for artists
Erase niggas when it's lead at ya
Bloodshed after done turned funerals to a Met Gala
Request rappers for torture, I leave you tied and crooked
The taste of blood on my fingers, that's when it's time to cook it
Right when you starving for death, that's when I'm hyped to pull it
Russian roulette I serve to these rappers, told em, "Bite the bullet"
[Ransom's part]
Queen, they barely gon' tow the line but I like to push it
Scarred face, ghetto boys stacking bills bout the height of Bushwick
You was never man enough
Them tales of your prison stints and the grams you cut
Ever seen a dope fiend die while he standing up?
You scamming us
There's no back and forth in front of the cameras
You question me, it'll be the look in my eye that'll answer ya
Tarantula, got eight arms on me, no long story
That's for amateurs, I got a small army if y'all harm me
[Che's part]
I talk Godly, was a kid, played on porches with small Barbies
Surrounded by shooters that's resembling Bob Marley
You ever seen a fiend die while watching from your porch
But they ain't know he was dead so they still was talking to his corpse?
I wrote classics, spoke with passion with no practice
The poems I'm rapping be the reason I'm gold status
Sold tactics cut from a cloth that's too old fashioned
With body language you can't understand with a closed caption
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