Listen to the don   There's nothing you can do   To make me run away from this game here, this game here   And there is no emcee   To put the competition to Kim no, Kim no   Yes I'm telling you from the start   I will break your little heart (uh huh)   There's nothing you can do   So just respect the don   There is no word you can say   That it would offend the Kim no, better listen      I'm gonna, murder them, murder them   Any competition I'm gon' murder them   I'm gonna, blow off they whip   Blow off they whip   All you frontin' emcees, I'm gonna, blow off your whip   When I'm gone, you will appreciate my shit   When I'm gone, you'll wanna spit my lyrics   But I'm gwan, I'm not gon' put up with this   I swear to God, you jealous niggas make me sick   See, I ain't got all day   Some-fuckin'-body gon' pay   Got things to do and places to be   I'm 'bout to take back what's owed to me   Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant   The livest one, we right here, we right here, we right here      All y'all, let it go, no disrespectin Hov'   Four years since Doubt drop, eleven million records sold   Five nigga, volume two   Dogs who be grinnin, then they   Try to get out of line, four cases pendin'   Three niggas got it coming, say May-June   Six albums dropped cock-suckers stay tuned   It's Jay everyday, no days off   No jewels drippin' and I took the shades off   You wanna rock with me? Slug you one comfortably   Put you back where your stomach should be (ill)   I'm dangerous when tempted, best left alone   Best believe the gun got Tourette Syndrome   Beretta sounds like 'Berreepp' when it's thrown   You're heading for a cold place, youngin', dress warm   Too much hustle, too easy to touch you   Little fucks you, go play   PS Jay, PS B-R-double-O-K   L-Y-N, stay out my way   Me and P.S. L-I-L to the K   I to the M, B.I. to the end      Pardon my French, but uh   Sometimes I get kinda, peeved at these   Weak emcees, with these   Supreme balla like, lyrics I call em like I see them G   You niggas sound like me   Pardon my French, but uh   Sometimes I get kinda, peeved at these   Weak emcees   Y'all niggas got some audacity   You sold a million, now you half of me   Get off my dick, kick it bitch      Love for BI? Then bust one in the sky   Haters watch your back   We might bust one in ya eye   It's going down tonight   So don't get outta line   Enough men've tri-ed   But 'nuff men-a di-ed   Biggie crowned me, Miss Queen Bitch forever   Even left me this thrown and an iced out tiara   What?! What the fuck, who the fuck, wanna fuck   With this Brooklynite bandit   Blow you off the planet   This girl, never troubled no-one   But if you trouble this girl   It gwan bring-a bum bum (wha?!)   What a bum bum      Pardon my French, but uh   Sometimes I get kinda, peeved at these   Weak emcees, with these   Supreme balla like, lyrics I call em like I see them G   You niggas sound like me   Pardon my French, but uh   Sometimes I get kinda, peeved at these   Weak emcees   Y'all niggas got some audacity   You sold a million, now you half of me   Get off my dick, kick it bitch      Bum bum BI bum bum   What a bum bum   What a bum bum