[Intro - Paul Cain] Yeah, Desert Storm niggaz, Cain Ghetto, I got these niggaz man (uh huh) Clue! (yeah), I'm the first line of defense (yeah) And I'ma show 'em what that means (yeah) [Chorus 1 - Paul Cain] I know these niggaz hoped I wouldn't make it - fuck you Your hatred only made me wanna cake ya - fuck you Wherever I see you nigga I'ma buck you And put a hole in your chest that's big enough to drive a truck through [Verse 1 - Paul Cain] I bring the drama back where you lives, flatter your wiz Reload and then point the Mag at your kids So what I sound remorse, the records I still peep guns on me But the difference now is only Deserts If I talk it's gonna be reckless; I'm ready to die So when I apply pressure, niggaz gon' respect it Tote guns to rob niggaz, I told 'em to use And leave enemies of friends that like broken and bruised They ain't crazy, they just broke and confused; cross me And they'll be talks of how they found the man smoked on the news I'ma career crook - they used a mug shot from my graduation picture And my junior high school yearbook Paul Cain never appear shook Yeah I might talk to my enemies but never police (nah) You wanna converse it better be brief; you ain't gotta say much Show me the money and the cheddar'll speak If it ain't involvin bread, I ain't with it I don't need D's on me, I'm already dodgin Feds When the shots from the revolver spread Duck, I don't discriminate, leave CEO's and artists dead Make slugs a part of his head Vanish then pop up in a SL double nickel, scarlet red Fuck you I'm tryna get my cash right All my niggaz flip birds and blast pipes, addicted to the fast life Live everyday like my last night; OD'in or X When I got signed like Len Bias on draft night (yeah) Niggaz (uh), Street Dreams (yeah) (uh), (yeah) [Chorus 2 - Fabolous] I see ya faggot ass schemin - fuck you Bitch you don't wanna swallow semen - fuck you No you hate the way I'm "Street Dreamin" - fuck you That's why I ridin, clappin, wit the .40 Cal screamin - fuck you [Verse 2 - Fabolous] When I pulled the 5 out; I kinda expected For the backstabbers, to be standin behind me, wit they knives out Then the Range, wit the fins drove in I wasn't shocked to see my foes, dressed in friends clothin But - I still pull through the sty; wit handguns As big as the one, Robocop pulled from his thigh You prolly heard about the bullets I buy; and how it look like I'm throwin batteries, when the bullets shoot by So what, you wear a vest, why would I care If I aim for ya chest, that be a good idea Nigga, it's nothing to clap ya; but I'm more worried Bout the groupie cops, who wanna put they cuffs on a rappa That's why I'm limpin off wit a freak; and a lawyer Who woulda got O.J. Simpson off in a week I could show you how to blow up on ya own; in a Benz That'll hit a buck! and make the windows go up on they own Wit a stash box compartment for; a handgun That make holes the size of peep holes, on apartment doors My closet look like department stores; and you wonder why Ya girl's comin home, wit a cigar sip for Cause I just dump the light Dutch, mash the guts You won't believe how much ass I touch Who else struts pass the sluts, and a chain wit so much Ash and cuts, that it hangs much pass the nuts That's why I get followed by broads; wit deeper throats Then the people at the circus, that be swallowin swords Y'all hopin that the Don fall off; but my money's long enough To keep shootin ya bank until, ya arms fall off I'm eatin, and I ain't have to use someone's utinsels And when you clean as me, you know that every bum is against you But please don't let someone convince you; to test the kid And get hit wit slugs as long, as a No. 2 Pencil, fucka [Chorus 2 - 2x]