[Produced by The Neptunes]
[Hook - Pharrell]
Cot' damn! It's a new day!
Cot' damn! But the n***a wanted money!
Hooooouuuuuu! Hooooouuuuuu! Hooooouuuuuu!
Cot' damn!
[Verse 1 - Malice]
Uh, they just can't understand or fathom my demeanor
Unapproachable appearance to how I pack the ninas
Out of two, Clipse they say Malice the meanest
Got love for guns and caine, let nothin' come between us
You mistook me for a rapper, huh
Well that makes me an actor, cause I would rather clap a gun
And buck on them n***as who hate
Who wanna be in my shoes, live my life, but can't carry my weight
I understand that the envy is part of the game
But make no mistake, you and I, we are not the same
Naw, b**h, I'm liable to splatter ya sh**
Light up ya world, 'til you start to stagger and sh**
Watch how them hollows straight rattle ya sh**
And I leave it to y'all, to freestyle and battle and sh**
That's not me, I'm more at home wit the chrome
Or at play wit the yay, moving 12 for a zone, I'm gone
[Hook - Pharrell]
[Verse 2 - Ab-Liva]
God damn, when that white hits the pan and
Comes back hard, I can account for every gram and
The streets molded the man I am
The pimp, the hustler, the crook, the k**er, go-rilla
Traits of a blow dealer, cost my fame
I hustle, I'm rich, blow scrilla
I'm the torch that, carry the game
The flame I throw, crack change came from blow
Push the O's, six lay close
Hug the streets, I hug the beat, change flows
Thug the streets, my love is deep, my pain shows
My hearts on a sleeve-a
n***a that they gave they soul and hearts to mistreat you
n***a told, they breaking my heart on the streets so
Watch the phonies, watch ya homies
We pop-pop, DROP you homey
[Hook - Pharrell]
[Verse 3 - Pusha T]
They call me Pusha for one reason
Cause I keep that sniff all seasons
Whether the price is up or down
I keep a mound to pitch from, you don't have to shop around
When it come to that money, I get stealth
Three guns is fortune, and I don't mind sharing my wealth
Dog, I know about life
I been around the world thrice times, I mean what I say
From that Panama sun, to France's Champs-Élysées
Grind so deep-rooted, I can't turn away
To sell base is now somewhat therapeutic
Hear what I say, please don't confuse it
My verses heal, like Curt Mayfield's music
(I'm your pusha!), damn right
I treat ya nose to hook ya
And only pull back to cook ya, partner
[Hook - Pharrell]
[Verse 4 - Roscoe P. Coldchain]
I be damned if I die of starvation, things is f**ed up as is
So I bangs my cabbage; do you not know the most effective
Way of gettin' money, pull yo gun - rapidly
And watch you see the situation be corrected
Lord Heavens, why must I live so devilish
They say whatcha do comes back on you two times
I shoulda been died, but I'm still walking around wit two nines
Who wants to be a millionaire, me, and you ain't got no more life lines
You a snitch n***a fighting crime, go ahead and tell the police
Cause every move you make, I'mma throw a slug
And hope you choke blood, n***a, on every breath you take
Not to be broke, cause Coldchain fate witness
Naturally spitting from me, human gat, field to the limit
Head to diminish, loud n***as talking gibberish
Grind beef, I deliver it, with complimentary service, for certain
Live in the living room, searching to hurting you
[Hook - Pharrell]
{*Skit at end of the track begins*}