Players keep playin', haters keep hatin' So much to say, so little time Haters I spit you die; slow; die; slow
Wash my hands in some in-scent smoke Flip it over nothing innocent though Hennessey spilling over tenements of QB Plenty of ways to survive Plenty of ways gettin' high Straight sip the innocent kind And the rest unjustified with an alibi, normal racquets Undercovers with heat in their slumber jackets Government badges and colored stripe brackets G's sittin' pretty like cash and (???) Witty thugs play out; I obey the writer Ala Swaying in and out, above and beyond The humidity, really got me jittery Cold like a barrel of ice I put my head on a pillow, di-do-do-ditto What son say, you still know I catch a chill flowing through my temple Good faith, common sense, six-triple in the mix Dippin' through quick aiming to get you; it's the click!
For the thuns, each one to each one son Street life is all I know Ways to move I pay dues; I'm talking to all of you For the cash 'cause I reach for them... reach for them Street life is all I know Full bellies and cellis, close enemies to siece memories
Yo..It's Hostyle ¿que pasa? No masa; tu eres no problema Drama with dada is dangerous Bang with anguish; Flame with a touch Gunpowder laying on my cuff The streets don't stop; it's like a marry-go-round The beats don't stop; multiply various rounds Of hard knock, bar locked gates Family ties without a trace Old G's...??? With sheets of casper toke Premeditated plans later dated Haters waited with iron plated heat Designed, made miraculously dated in deep memory So...keep countin' dollars Keep mine moving scholars of rap With a lot of gats; holla' back!
Don't let the Po-Po knock me again Don't let the 'nine' cock freely in sin Missiles through your flesh tissue... military issue Guess you understand the risk you take Dissed you on your forehead snake Pitch fork love; It's for coke thugs Bitches huffin' & puffin'; huffin' & puffin' about nothin' Watch you say I hold against you in the court of law (???) closed from burn holes Fires turned on my stone... Fuck That! 'cause I gotta eat; pockets so swolled All the checks I'm scribblin'; it's real baby!