(*talking*)
Uh, for the 2-theezie bout the cheezy
Know me, naw I mean, hey
Sensei, Mafia Mike, Whodi bout our paper
Mobstyle for life, uh
[Big Pokey]
For my cream, I`ll take it to the extreme
A glock and a three beam, plus a million dolla team
Franchise like Ikeim, in these streets
In studios split beats, with this verbal heat
Dress code neat, from head to feet
Jumping out the Benzo Jeep, with a petite freak
Hit my point, sweep the flo`
Call my Cuban connect, cop the snow
I`m out the do` quick, with a block or mo`
With a glock on my hip, that`ll stop the show
Bout my do`, rolling I`m about my hoe
She disrespect my ways, then she got to go
When I`m paid it`s on, if I`m broke they gone
Or I trick with a bitch, I choke my own
And I put that, on the Stone
When it come to my paper, nigga leave me alone
[Hook - 2x]
Please, get out of our way
We don`t have time, to play
We`re all about, our paper mayn
[Chris Ward]
I`m on a paper chase, gotta put it in these fakers face
And if I get locked up, I`ma escape the place
Cause there`s no way, I`m doing time in jail
I`d rather be burning up, frying in hell
As I cry and yell, I keep my ear to the streets
Listen and learn to earn, I got peers to defeat
While these scandalous hoes bitching, and foes snitching
Friends turn into those wishing, my pockets on riches
And I ain`t got time for chatting, cause niggas be ratting
Acting fly like Aladdin, they softer than satin
I`ma leave they ass flatting like a mat, with they blood splatting
For playing games with me, as if I`m Madden
From H-Town to Manhattan, my flows swarm like bees
I spit lyrical cheese, on cd`s and lp`s
And when it comes to stacking G`s, I`m about my pay
But do like the song say, and get out the way
[Hook - 2x]
[Mafia Mike]
Went from broke to cash, then first from last
Or leave or now baby, no questions asked
Gas up the cat, cause the Gator`s gon mash
Get out of my way, before I hit that ass
Don`t cause a scene, that`s gon make me slash
Then hit the beat so hard, it`ll leave a gash
And haters fall off, when they touch my stash
My whole dress attire, is made with class
Those, and ain`t trying to get us left in the past
I ain`t trying to hot cap, or even flash
I keep a pound of cash, stashed in my dash
Full tank of gas, mean mug on my mask
And those are like potatoes, they all get mashed
Jackers irritate me, like a rash
I gash that ass, ooh you little bitch ass nigga
Come here hoe, I knock they chest in the grass
[Hook - 2x]
(*talking*)
Uh man, too serious mean that
Mobstyle for life, Mobstyle for life
Ha what, 2000 Dope Game two-thee
In your face, 3D baby done one mo`
And another and another and another
We`re dropping like bird shit
Ain`t stopping, uh
