BK The Great
Veteran
[Intro: The Game]
Yeah! Maybach Music! Family we livin'
[Verse One: The Game]
Who stack cheddar better than the rat killer
That nikka that bust gats quicker, and he throw back liquor
The mafia way, toast it up like Sopranos
And when it's snowin, I push it like pianos
Back in the Lambo like I was born with it
Makavelli prophecy shoot up the car I'm goin' with it
From the cradle to the grave on these twenty two's
Before I take my last breath I let the semi loose
If there's heaven for a nikka with a crucifix
So much ice in it, mix the O and Gin and Goose with this
B-O- double S that's my nikka Ross!
And I'm his Cali connect, cause I can get it 'cross
Used to put ducks in the bathroom watch that bytch float
Couple years past now it's keys on the big boat
Take a shortcut 'round the Pacific
Throw the AK in Atlantic that's mafia livin'
[Verse Two: Ja Rule]
Guess who's bizack? Yeah, nikka you guessed
Who shot ya, I spit murder, the music is mafia
The swag's incomparable, but that just's comparison
Impossible, like dope that don't move
And I drip off the spoon, infectious to hoods
And one cold afternoon, you'll get shot at your home
Now, I smell p*ssy, p*ssy got lips
But it don't talk to me, that's why you my bytch
And you on my dikk (ah-ha!)
Cause I fukked ya up once, fukked ya up twice
And you still talkin shyt ('Preme nikka!)
What must I do to get through to you?
Curly, get off my dikk, 'fore that ch-ch-ch-chi-chopper
Get ta pah-pah-pah-pah-poppin off of nikkas that been mouthin off
Read in between the lines when you hear me talk
Go and get out of line, this is Rule York
[Verse Three: Fat Joe]
Thug nikka 'till I die, and I ain't even try
See the murder in my eyes, nikka fukk the other side
I don't give a fukk! I will burn your jheri curls
Yayo is his bottom bytch, Banks is a girlie-girl
Don't worry 'bout Whoo Kid, Macho smacked his face in
Lighty threw the towel and begged Pistol not to drape him
I meant (?), don't let me catch Nelson
I done spoke to God, man, He can't even help him, help him
Big up to Maybach Music
Got them choppers man, don't make us use it
Hits out the park, they call me Big Papi
Even if you shot me, you still couldn't stop me
Still went to Africa, still wore the big chain
Where you got robbed at? nikka, on the same stage
I say the shyt that you can't say
Cause I am not a snitch, I ain't bytch-made
[Verse Four: Rick Ross]
David beat Goliath
The meek will inherit the earth
Deeper
Triple black Benz, Lord, forgive me for my sins
I put hits on all you nikkas, includin' some old friends
Money come and go, but the trill will remain
bytch, I keep it real like I'm still dealin' 'caine
Realest shyt I wrote and I put this on this quote
Before I had a flow, I had a kilogram of coke
Money on the flo', twenty homies on the books
Fat mob boss but I'm runnin wit the crooks
No need for a vest, that'll suffocate the flesh
I'm Martin on the balcony anticipatin' death (death)
Let the rifles sing, cause "I have a dream"
My Coretta Scott-King in the tub full of cream
Pink champange seem to take away the pain
While the blue hollow points penetratin' all the lames (lames)
Money ain't a thang, bytch, that's a lie
It only controls every bytch that's alive
Money manifests, haters gotta die (die)
Tia never told you that that motherfukker rides
nikkas takin sides, crack smoking wives
Cracking crabs at the tables, count the cash, crack the wine
Snakes gotta feel it, beef never squashed (never)
This time I'm embark on my Million Man March
I'm unorthodox, name me the victor
In the suite wit Shaniqua and that brain off the Richter
Marquise knocks, Marquise stop
Then I give him 50 Cent, that's Marquise' pops
I put a milli on it, this p*ssy don't want it
Show up in his hood wit the wolves by the mornin' (bang)
nikka, this a gift, maybe you could live
My music is the mob, it is what it is
Strapped to a T, as real as it gets
Only boss getting money with the Bloods and the Crips
Amen
[Outro: Rick Ross]
Deeper than motherfukkin' Rap, nikka
Once you crossed that line
It ain't 'bout, North or South
It's about money and power, riders and punks
We know how the story goes nikka, contract killers
It's not a threat, it's a promise
Money long as 183rd Street, nikka aka Miami Gardens
You could make that list too, nikka
Amen
The Lord is my light and salvation, who shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength of my life, of whom shall I be afraid?
My evil and foes come upon me to eat up my flesh, they shall stumble and fall
Though a host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear
Though war I rise, and this I shall be confident
It's deeper than rap, nikka
that eerie beat switch at Ross' verse
this was a dope songJa using autotune
but his verse was dope
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