Intro - DJ Clue]
Yeah y'all
This the Triangle Offense
Ghetto Fab
Paul Cain, Joe Buddens
We all "Street Dreams"
At one time or another
Fast cars, cash
Money, hustlin...
C'mon y'all
Desert Storm
Chorus - Paul Cain]
Some n***as thug, and some n***as is b**h
Some n***as'll rob, and some n***as'll pitch
Some n***as ain't got sh**, some n***as rich
Some n***as do the time, and some live as a snitch
Verse 1 - Paul Cain]
Now some n***as like to pull out and talk, some n***as pop off
Some n***as found they way to the top, some n***as got lost
Some n***as keep it thorough in jail, some n***as got soft
Some n***as ride hard top Coupe, I pull the top off
And quick to speed off on the jake
Quick to back, any n***a gettin money, come up off of the safe
f** the city, I'm extortin the state
I'm like O. from the "Wire", walk wit a sawed-off and a .8
When I was taught, never talk wit a snake
When you k** a n***a you love, you pay for the coffin and weight
Get you wrapped up, and tossed in a lake
If you can't get the whole pie, just take ya portion and skate
Don't f** wit n***as, if they soft or they fake
Only jail cats, and n***as going back and forth to court could relate
f** wit me, and I'ma alter ya fate
Send some wolves after ya girl, I specialize in torture and rape
We in the game most dudes ain't built for
Cain talk the type of sh**, n***as get k**ed for
Whatever it's gon' be, let it be, I ain't waistin a slug
And time is money, and when it come to mind, take it in blood, n***a
Chorus
Verse 2 - Fabolous]
These n***as act like, I ain't sling the clip at the last lane
And ran to the cops, to bring the tips of the last names (n***a!)
Like I ain't bring the shipments, and past caine
And sticky that'll leave ya finger tips wit the gra** stains (n***a!)
Like I don't swing and zip through the fast lane
Would you believe, this ringer chipped me a fast Range (n***a!)
Like I ain't sling on stips, till my past fame
And stacked it up, like the Pringle chips, when the cash came (n***a!)
Like I ain't fling and dip, when the task came
I knew these n***as sing like pits, so I stash change
The singles chipped in my a** changed
But this player never pay for, them rings and whips, just to gas dance
I'm why you stay in touch wit ya writer
Even made you pick up ya pen, and start clutchin it tighter
I ain't much of a fighter
But I know, everything about rollin up, like a Dutch in a Spyder
My dope is much more than whiter
One hit'll have the fiends yellin out, they need crutches and lighters
The Fed's can't touch us indict us, and the hoes can't even get numbers
They wanna stay in touch, they could write us, n***a
Chorus
Verse 3 - Joe Budden]
Listen, listen, I lived that life, of click-clack life
The kidnap life, the kid's the wise, I did that twice!
You prolly see that through ya b**h a** eyes
Still I'm that n***a that you get at why
Man forget that they knew me, remeber me thug
I'm from that same block, rips snorkle on ja dip in a Lucy
'Member they back you down, when knives was out
.45 was out, scully ya eyes come out
But now could you hear n***a all in this place
That when you see him in the streets, you gettin all in his face
More you give a n***a, the more that he takes, and you wanna beef
Knowin I'm slower than do so, cause I got much more at stake
HUH!?... that's why I'm ignorin ya page
I can't respect you no more, you's a fraud and a snake
But you noticed that's the hate that I love
You see me eating off rat, that same feat you think you capable of
Don't get me worng, I would like to get it
But you acting like, I ain't blow my show money on a rifle fetish
And my pop's voluntarily, surrendered to the Fed's
This is the wrong time to f** wit my head
I'm tryna tell you, friends are ya worst enemies
So if I make friends wit my worst enemies, that'll maybe even things out
But one in ya dome is easy, get it on if need be
Chrome for sheezy, please, DON'T believe me