[Verse 1: Hell Rell]
Ayo, I stopped paying for !@%!e, get bricks on the muscle
Gorillas on they bull%#@!, welcome to the jungle

Fiends get served in the hallway, welcome to the hustle
Where (*##$es do anything for a hit of that glass dick
When I'm outta town, nothing less than a half brick

One-sixty on the dash, nothing less than a fast whip
I floss when it's sunny, got money for a rainy day
In the dope spot a few blocks from where the Yankees play

Man, I'm heavy in that BX borough
And we ain't gotta front for nobody, we just thorough
And I'm sitting on an arsenal, rockets and the missiles

Took my advance and got my strip popping with them nickels
And when I'm in ya neighborhood, you gotta go high
Deliver bullets to ya door like I'm domino pies, ^!$$%

Say hello to my little friend like Scarface
I pull that $#&@ing rifle right out the guitar


[Hook: Bezel]
Dipset, the best out, Hell Rell, he fresh out
Jones the kufi smacker, he bringing them techs out

Sporty-style, 40 Cal, he bringing Corvettes out
Bezel the Beast, but I still show you what fresh 'bout
You know who shaving the grams, forty K on the hand

Killa, ^!$$%, what more can I say about Cam?
JR the Writer of writers
And Santana back like cooked crack, he even supplying suppliers


[Verse 2: JR Writer]
The type that I'm tighter, tight cause I'm Writer

Write cause I'm nicer, site for the lifers
Knives in the cipher, Writer's a viper
Listen this is butter

Even Ringling Brothers see I got the eye of the tiger
Before I met Killa Cam, I was dealing killa grams
I mean killer grams, throws a tan, fill a pan

Recorded in the hole, where you couldn't chill or stand
No booth, microphone hanging off the ceiling fan
Mass million fan sitting in the Beverly Hilton

Watch how I heavy kills him, Bessey, Chevy, desi fill 'em
But I still ain't break a sweat, yes, I'm chilling
Veet bomb, seat wrong, tito gonna bet the building

I been grind to lean, sniff lines for fiends
Grams chopped, tan rock, I pitch lima beans
Piff grind was mean, had 'em dumb stuck

So when I say uncut, I don't mean behind the scenes

[Hook]


[Verse 3: 40 Cal]
Yo, I'm a NY G like Jeremy Shockey

Come through, drop my coupe like I meant to be sloppy
I got DJ's kicking karate
Cause they throw my wax on and take your wax off like Mr.Miyagi

Pimping, I'm @@#!y, I slap your broad on the cheek
And send her home barefooted, you massaging her feet
You probably go down on a freak, you're hardly a meat

But we ain't mad cause you proving you are what you eat
Your squadron is weak, speak and get a broken something
We the plate in ya grill like a toaster oven, $#&@ it

They even got dojas frontin, shaking your cola
Only time your !@%!e was bubbling, cousin
Cal get weight with no problemo

Ride around ya block selling out the car window
And ya moms been know, that I chop rocks
That make your father cop like Carl Winslow


[Hook]