Aiyyo shorty, yo that's my word   Oh, y'all smellin', y'all piss now y'all think y'all gold   Yo anybody get caught playin'   Over here, I'm returnin' em      That's my word that they be blasted   Anything from two-twenty to one-forty, that's mine   Y'all need to step the fuck off   Y'all niggaz ain't crazy for real      Yo, the fiends ain't comin' fast enough   There is no cut that's pure enough   I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload   Product must be sold to you      I'm deep down in the back streets in the heart of Medina   About to set off somethin' more deep than a misdemeanor   Under the subway, waitin' for the train to make noise   So I can blast a nigga and his boys for what      He pushed up on the block and made the dope sales drop   Like the crashin' of Dow Jones stock   I had to connect to cross seals to catch more mil's   Than ho-bitches got birth control pills      I'm in the park, settin' up a deal over blunt fire   Bum niggaz sleepin' on the bench, they had em wired   Peeped my convo, the address of my condo   And how I changed a nigga name to John Doe      And while we set up camp, we got vamp   Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his fuckin' fangs apart   Snake got smoked on the set like Brandon Lee   Blown out the frame like Pan Am flight 103      He got swung on, his lungs was torn   The kingpin just castled with his rook and lost a pawn   A regular on the block that played look-out   For playin' predator with a glock, he should have took out      No neighborhood is rough enough   There is no clip that's full enough   I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload   Product must be sold to you, yo      Fiends ain't comin' fast enough   There is no cut that's pure enough   I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload   Product must be sold to you      It's mandatory that I supply all my troops with mega firearms   Big apes and spread em out like crops on a farm   To get cream, sometimes they repaint the scene   Like the last episode on gates and other niggaz      Plant bombs 'til the smoke from the blast becomes thick   And flows through all they knew, he's gun sick   His glock clicks, like high-heeled shoes on parquay floors   Mad sick, stand on hills and invade wars      Filthy foul, shovelin' dirt, he's out to hurt   For instance, chop off hands, attack worth   His idols would lock down airports and extort   Some import, catchin' ten percent of what the fiends snort      Up in the ski resorts, up in hills   They move keys and had skis makin' drops on snowmobiles   The plan was to expand, catch seven figures, release triggers   And live large and bigger than my nigga      Who promised his moms a mansion with mad room   She died and still put a hundred grand in her tomb   Open wounds, he hid behind closed doors   And still organized his crime and drug wars      Fiends ain't comin' fast enough   There is no cut that's full enough   I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload   Product must be sold to you      No neighborhood is rough enough   There is no clips that's full enough   I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload   Product must be sold to you      The peers that come is tight enough   There is no niggaz that's fuckin' up   I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload   Product must be sold to you