^{Verse 1: Jim Jones} Rumors that were said, shot in cold blood Two up in my head, can't talk phone bugged Somebody want me dead, but I'm still flossin' I rock my jewelry through the scurriest streets I keep my ears to the streets And I ain't scared of police Lord knows that I got various beefs So could you pray for the week You know the rules play on the sheet So we hustle everyday of the week That's why we fuck up all the paper we see We hit the clubs, fuckin ladies for free Getting drunk, off and hazin' the V And every couple days we get sweeped Around the clock we bumpin' and clickin' You gotta watch cause when they come they be blitzin' ^{Chorus: Jim Jones} Now this is for my homies and my thugs One million in the truck, and the chrome full of sluts (Fully Automatic!) You fuckin phonies you'll get plugged (Boom!..Bang!) I'm a ghetto nigga for life The streets is in my blood (DIPSET!) Now this is for my homies and my thugs One million in the truck, and the chrome full of sluts (Fully Automatic!) You fuckin phonies you'll get plugged (Boom!..Bang!) I'm a ghetto nigga for life The streets is in my blood (BYRDGANG!) ^{Verse 2: Fatal Hussein} Ya niggaz dyin', while you other niggaz is hidin' Might be strapped, but you runnin' and ain't ridin' So I'm slidin' to the place down the hill Where the homies is murda and when its poppin' down to kill On the real The only way a motherfucker try to survive Is knowin' that he 'bout to die, and ride I told Face he was the realest in the game And he smiled and told me 'Pac was the realest that they came In the jungle, I walk like I'm the king of the beasts So when you duck huntin', keep movin' cause I'm swingin' the heat I might go out of town, move fakin' is none of that And never leave up out the hood, the way I can't come back Fuck that Hussein in the street game frame Life is a struggle, so with the heat take aim I'm ghetto, don't ever think I'm him its not me Cuz I love this motherfucker like pills in a hot tea ^{Chorus Verse 3: 40 Cal} Why ya act like I'm new to this? Mack to the uzi clip When it comes to beef, we all packed like Luis Rich Battlin' is ludacris, half of ya uterus Matter fact, Jimmy, pass me the "Kufi List" What you think niggaz got goons for? The mass menace at ya door like a costume ball (hello) My flow is like when you throw a 'Pac tune on The only time you get tax is when you cop new 'gords, dog I make it happen with no sarcasm So it ain't the station wagon, when you see me dodge magnums (get it?) If I don't hit you when the clip fills Like the show off the blind date, ya know the fifth will Break niggaz like big bills, when it peels Sit still, shit's real, listen you a kid's meal And I eat those, reload, heat blown Keep those kilos, cause we go beast mode ^Chorus