Cyphr (9th Wonder Remix)

[Intro: Freeway]

Yeah! Gunna! Get 'em!

[Verse 1: Young Chris]

Well it’s the C from the R-O, the Polo a cargo

The Murcielago, garage a car show

The ‘matic is auto, suit ‘em up, hard-toe

Hard-toe, get that to the wire like Marlo

[Verse 2: Freeway]

And so the wrist stay on glisten, the beats keep on ripping

Touch me? Dream on, or y’all keep on schiz'ing

It’s the king of the flow-switching, I do it best

Smif-N-Wes, right under the rest where the arm go

[Verse 3: Wale]

It’s Mr. Need-an-Encore, J11 Concord

You niggas is John Q., you don’t have the heart for it

Catch me out in Largo, showin’ off my hard work

Count so much bread, swear to God that my arm hurt

[Verse 4: Young Chris]

Give ‘em the LV, fresh pair of lens and a nice belt

I be in the women, swimming like Mike Phelps

Young black distributor, did it with the white help

Little bit of green, too, satisfy the fiends too

[Verse 5: Freeway]

Me too! I’m saying, bringing the banger right here

I been hip-hop gaming, dropping bangers all year

Freezer, bang that thang and end your singing career

Hoes like it, fly private, do my thing in the air

[Verse 6: Wale]

Well, am I making it clear, or did I st-st-stutter?

Globetrotting is nothing, I’m living out of my luggage

A neighborhood superstar, don’t even hit the public

Discovery Channel tape us and swear the hood is a jungle

[Verse 7: Young Chris]

Motherfuck 'em, they feed the R&B and let the rest starve

Had to leave my old team like Brett Favre

Condensate, you fucking hater, let the mag off

Then watch ‘em turn to commentators like Bradshaw

[Verse 8: Freeway]

Rock stages, snatch wages, you can hate me or love me

MTV-Unplug me and put me up with the greatest

Lil’ sweats, Louie specs, I put you up on the latest

‘Cause I made it, graduated to the Benz from the buggy

[Verse 9: Wale]

And we the freshest, they love, it, we the subject of discussion

We can get it popping, brother, out in public, we ain’t running

I ain’t playing, I ain’t caring at all, Philly, we ready for war

We bring it to ‘em, they Usain Bolt, gone

[Verse 10: Beanie Sigel]

If I don’t come up, the sun won't

Def might Jam but my gun don’t, I keep the 40 Glock with me

I’ll give the jockey on your ‘Lo shirt a wiggy

You can keep the coke, papi, but the dough coming with me

I’m all about the Benjamins, baby, pockets Puffy

Big Poppa of the Property, you got to love me

Popped off if it’s problems, we can do this publicly or in private

However do you want it, B

No problems do you want with me

I put your body in that box so comfortably, church

Lay a nigga six feet beneath earth

While the preacher search the Bible for a verse, rest in peace!

State Prop, get your wig popped

I’m on my job in the hood like Young Bob giving headshots

King of Philly, there’s none before me and none to come

I got it locked like the wig on Stunna’s son