[VERSE 1: Lord Finesse]
I wonder how brothers' heads are screwed on
When they frontin around town with the next man jewels on

Talkin 'bout they could've been a star
Sportin turned off beepers, drivin around in rented cars
That only happens in America

When you catch a brother frontin with a turned off cellular
Out there tryin to jingle
Like he's the mutha$#&@in man and got a knot full of singles

And always half-steppin
Cause even at a dice game ^!$$%s gotta start $$#-bettin
They have the whole plan plotted

Till you say, "Celo, everybody pay up," they yell: ("My man gotta")
Kickin game at random
His favorite line is: ("Don't worry, I'ma hit you off when my man come")

And how claim he got power
When he doesn't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of
And always frontin like the other kids

Not a dime to his name and still livin in his mother's crib
So why you're frontin like you're large?
Don't front on me, ^!$$%, I pull your mutha$#&@in card


[CHORUS x4]
[Large Professor] Pull they cards, yo, tell em how you feel

I gotta it lay it on down (on the real to real)

[VERSE 2: Lord Finesse]

Nowadays hoes is ahead of ya
(Why you say that?) Cause (*##$es be frontin on the regular
For instance, take the neighborhood freak

Let her get a outfit and her hair done and the (*##$ won't speak
Frontin and actin all fly
But pull up in a 535 and homegirl'll be like: ("Hi...")

Girls kick the same old song
(As long as he got money everything is alright) Wrong
Yo, she's all out of order

When she barely keeps a quarter lookin for a brother to support her
Hangin out and she stay frontin
Wear the tightest %#@! and get mad when a mutha$#&@a say somethin

Catch homegirl walkin through
And be like: ("What's up shorty?") She be like: ("Who you think you talkin to?")
Me, I'm quick to say, "Walk, hoe"

And save that conversation for a talk show
You wanna know what Finesse think?
I don't give !@#%s enough to make they mutha$#&@in breath stink

Especially when they frontin like stars
I shout ya out, (*##$, and pull your mutha$#&@in card


[CHORUS]

[VERSE 3: Lord Finesse]

Nowadays you got jerks frontin
The softest ^!$$%s talkin 'bout they wanna hurt somethin
Matter of fact, I know plenty of frauds

The way brothers act, they deserve mutha$#&@in Emmy Awards
Nowadays brothers ruin rap
With all this murder and the killin when them ^!$$%s don't be doin that

You startin to bore me, fellas
Y'all ain't murderers, but yo, y'all great $#&@in storytellers
I speak what I feel

And if ^!$$%s ain't real, then keep they $#&@in lip sealed
Because they front like vandals
Runnin all them scandals when they softer than Tevin Campbell

("I kill a ^!$$%") That's what most say
When they wouldn't shoot a fly off the wall if they had a can of roach spray
So why you're frontin like you're hard?

Don't front on me, ^!$$%, I pull your mutha$#&@in card