There's a rumor that an old lady heard a
Kingpin hiring a hitman to murder
A federal prosecuting drug-dealing witness

But that's how it is in the business
And I'm in it, physically gaining power
Constantly counting up cash by the hour

And it feels good to be paid
Regardless of how many victims get slayed
Accomplices of mine drop like flies

But in this everyday a homeboy dies
Whether shot in the body or cyanide in ya Bacardi
'Cause it's a cutthroat party

Now it's up to me to retaliate
And if I score, I'll increase the murder rate
I move on ones who double-cross

Set them up, now they suffer the loss
Of he or she who's ever on the agenda
Most likely a family member

Informants, rattle-tattle-telling snakes
Get shot up, brutalized and thrown in lakes
The parts of a body is found days later

The other half was done by an amputator
I'm undefeated in plenty fights
My enemies are beaten with many stripes

I'll shoot up funerals, firebomb wakes
Vehicular homicides, whatever it takes
Just to keep control of my empire

I'll set ya own mother on fire
'Cause when it comes down just to me and my money
Ain't a $#&@ing thing funny

All those who pose a threat I'll stick them
Ya friends, ya family and innocent victims
Get caught in the midst when I'm busting of nines

But they was in the wrong place, the wrong time
Decapitated bodies found in lots
While I'm still cooking up kilos in pots

The kilos becomes bricks and the bricks becomes rocks
Then retailed on the blocks
I drive around in expensive cars

And get women who $#&@ like !@$^o stars
I get them high, you know, like powder they nose
Then put 'em in the streets as my high-class hoes

I'm wild, living foul and I'm ruthless
I leave mutha$#&@ers toothless
I had a worker who stepped on the scene lively

Then started selling my customers Ivory
Soap, counterfeit vials of cracks
I stuck 'em to death with a thousand thumbtacks

You've seen my resume, that's just the half
I'm a bad mutha$#&@er, just like Shaft
A character played by who? Richard Roundtree

The only difference, my guns are sound-free
Silencers ring off then wisp by
Then all you hear is a last minute cry

Of those who triedto control my territory
Not the West Side but the Bed-Stuy story
Police be giving me eye-to-eye contact

But I smile 'cause I'm putting out contracts
Now a G-note is placed upon ya head
You say picture that alright, bang ya dead


This is the life of a drug dealer