[Intro: Shyheim]
Lil' Jon, take back your cup, son
I'mma smack fire outta one of these ^!$$%z

Runnin' around with cups and %#@!, with they names on it
...got $#&@in' strips... man, listen
It's the kid, ^!$$%, Shyheim, ^!$$%, what?

Uh-huh, they $#&@ed up and let me out
This Bottom Up, Brock Bros., King Just, Shaolin


[Shyheim]
You don't get a cup for that sucker %#@! you doing
I can tell you never had real drama from the way you moving

You easy access, dress up like I work for FedEx
Deliver a bomb in a box to your address
Now you know you ain't ordered %#@!, you still gonna open it

Always lookin' for the come up, see, what ya greedy $$# hit?
Pine casket and some flowers, and your (*##$ will be $#&@in'
One of my Bottom Up ^!$$%z, give and take a couple hours

June Lov', with this criminal mentality of ours
To eat, %#@!, shave, and shower with the culture power
You don't get a cup, cuz I said you don't get a cup

You not a gang banger, throwin' your record company sign up
How come nobody on your team, had a gun, when ya man got bodied
Y'all just standin' there, feelin' stupid, lookin' down at his body

And if dead ^!$$%z could talk, I bet he said, y'all #~!!@, probably

[Chorus: Shyheim]

You don't get a cup, for them hub cap spinners
You don't get a cup, cuz you don't $#&@ with the winners
You don't get a cup, cuz you ain't down with Shaolin

You don't get a cup, cuz y'all ^!$$%z don't be wildin'
You don't get a cup, cuz you ain't from the grain
And you don't get a cup, cuz ^!$$%z snatched your chain

You don't get a cup, cuz you runnin' from me
And you don't get a cup, cuz I'm the hottest in the street


[Shyheim]
How the $#&@ Nick Cannon get a cup?
When Nickelodeon kids, don't even get drink

Your names written in rhinestone, not diamonds
This is for my comrades, with their green cups
Starin' mud up on the Island, gettin' counted

Dogs in the pound, growlin', hear the moans of the forgotten
Mouth all dry, like we suckin' on cotton
We thristy, so y'all better pray for mercy

The state of mind, hip hop's in right now, hurts me
Disgust me, everybody's thugs, gangstas, and p-i-m-ps
We all irregular people, peace


[Chorus]


[Shyheim]
2000 box, New York 'ocks, a box of tops
Be in S.A.Q. so long, they call me sock

Who got the drop homey? I got the drop
Runnin' up in the spot, with my 40 cal' glock
The money, jewels and your cup is what I came for

Then I'm lookin' at the front door, like Main Source
Slidin' off in the 0-4, gray porsche
I crucified the game, put the scale on the porch

In memory of my mans, that died for grams
Catch shots, dusted out, with the Wally Champs
Screamin' '$#&@ everybody', lickin' shots like stance


[Chorus]


[Outro: Shyheim]
Listen, man, there's 2 type of people, man
Trend setters and those who follow trends

Man, life is not a gimmick, man
Life is a privalege, see y'all runnin' around here, frontin' man
Like we won't take your life, B

I'm serious, man, and go sit up in a box
With some child %#@!, and blow some holes and do pushups, ^!$$%
Make ya chest big, ^!$$%, beat our dick offa something

The black tails, or the butt-mans or something
Keepin' it gangsta man, Bottom Up, Brock Bros
2-0-0-4, to infinity, ^!$$%, remember that
It's the God, you know?