[Verse One: Sean Price] Ayo, I ain't a mad rapper I ain't no back packer I'm just a cat who will smack black off of wack rappers n***a acting like they really gon' get me But the motherf**ers is faker than silicon titties P! R. to the I.C.E See you n***as in Hell with a gla** of ice for my tea That's just the way that I be Like a b**h you like it rough so I'm trying to f** Laila Ali Trying to make dumb dollars like Diddy and Dash Make you motherf**s hollar while you give me some cash b**hes hear the brokest rapper you know And they still be like, "Ruck what the f** you doing after the show?" I'm like, "Chill with my wife, chill with my son Before I, k** with my knife, I'm ill with my gun." Yo six million ways to die, choose gun Ask Sean Price, that's like six million and one Yo, yo, yo, yo [Flood Diesel] Yo Here I come The wicked one like Mum Ra Yeah run! This the one they warn you about That's son and 'em n***as from the Brook-nam government The Flood and sh** n***as said "He prolly got a gun on him" My origin Deep like a f**ing arcade And these n***as weak, yeah bu*ter Parkay I'm out in these streets selling pellets of c**aine I nearly got knocked, I'm like "f** it" the whole thang Whole thing? My hustle ring is like phone book Plus my pinky ring is just so hook Ask them n***as how I got you shook Try to front, that's the best you do That's the same way he left his hood Now he dead looking not so good