I got seven Mac-11's, about eight .38's
Nine 9's, ten Mac-10's the ♥♥♥♥♥ never end
You can't touch my riches
Even if you had MC Hammer and them 357 ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
Biggie Smalls, the millionaire, the mansion, the yacht
The two weed spots, the two hot Glocks
Huh, that's how I got the weed spot
I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the Lambsbread
Lil' Gotti got the shotty to your body
So don't resist or you might miss Christmas
I tote guns, I make number runs
I give MCs the runs dripping
When I throw my clip in the AK, I slay from far away
Everybody hit the D-E-C-K
My slow flows remarkable, peace to Matteo
Now we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniff the yayo
That's crazy blunts, mad L's
My voice excels from the avenue to jail cells
Oh my God I'm dropping ♥♥♥♥ like a pigeon
I hope you're listening, smacking babies at they christening
So you better grab your pistol
Cause if you sit still, I'm gonna make your ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥ spill
And I'm talking 'bout buckets, why did I have to do it?
Sadat said ♥♥♥♥ it, you got a gun, ♥♥♥♥♥ bust it
Cause I got mo' shots to pop ya
Big Poppa, breaking you off something proper
Signing off is the hardcore rap singer
AKA crack slinger, bring it any time ♥♥♥♥♥