[Verse 1 - Styles P] You gon get smashed and pulverized So n***as know now you ain't bumpin' to sober guys; I'm over high Tell Mayor Bloomberg sign the city over to me And when he do it, make sure that it's notarized Spray you with some mace bring you to a quiet place Then beat you twenty minutes in ya face No need to plead in ya case Nah n***as, this ain't the court system Let the three eight em', or the four fifth em' So disciplined, lil' n***a you listenin Came from New York but ya body was found in Michigan After that im just f**in ya lil sista and Cookin bricks up in the kitchen and Hit ya mom off with a little bit of grocery money If you dont die over family, its supposed to be money Natural causes is out of the question When you breakin the law, every hour, every minute and second [Hook] [Verse 2 ] Listen n***a you ain't got sh** to bring Less you wanna gargle on ya blood like its listerine Felony n***as, have the lawyer break em down into misdermeanors Used to run guns now a days im just shippin ninas I could shoot you co*ks**ers there ain't sh** between us Only say my name in a sense to a certain n***a Big time hustlers, n***as just merkin n***as n***as think im under rated, im just under the radar Til' I make a hundred thous. times a hundred baby Until then, ill be runnin crazy gunnin crazy ||FIG|| Listen close, and you probably hear the belly hunger Old nina, old beamer, not the shelly's thunder [Hook]