Mmm, mm-hmm, mm-hmm, mm-mm What does it get? Touch your favorite rapper, been on my God, just was prayin' that they ain't drop me Probably fit in my I told my momma I on, she told me shut up and grit Pit bread, red-nosed pit, I train it, lay down and sit They try boxin' me in, but I ain't flexin', ain't nothin' I send them, they comin', I don't pay them nothin' I'm the hunnid, he took off random, but stumbled Got his head turned to a pumpkin Bless my sons in abundance, they know they daddy been thuggin' Even though I know they momma make me show I love him with money I'm the king of the jungle, but they ain't vote me the leader I undercut my competitors, although it's cheaper, it's ether Rushin', puttin' it in the freezer, pray don't clog up his needle I'm on popper like Gotti, playin' touchdown through my speakers With all my jewelry on and my car parked, touchin' the needle I just touched John and Houston, it's just me and my shooter I ain't payin' no plugs, I got more free bands than Scooter Gotta value your past and depend on your future Hype me with hoops and be with hoops, cause the money was neutral If you see me with G-Skin, two Lambo's and two Yikis A playa ain't need leakin', they call me Milston, no speakin' Might be the hustler of the century, Richie I know still under investigation, tryna duck the penitentiary Streets talk too much, please do not mention me World War IV, but touch it, it should be real I be over God, he had sent for me, traveled from Texas to Tennessee Paid damn price like thirty-three bricks of water What's ten a piece, get it wrapped like a gift from me Here it's gray, I do my thing, turn it blue, color Tiffany I'm a dog, walk around with that food, only way I really eat Blockin' comments, don't get to me, I come from out the project They put a mill in that water, stuck my arm in it, Vince Carter They thought I died in that Charger, but the shooter ain't they target Say I blame them for the slaughter, put that man straight to market And switch my car, apartment, walk out, big blick in my jogger The tour is like Big Papa, but I ain't goin' like Chris Wallace The city know who the gobbler is, they beggin' for me to stop it The reason they don't ride with toddlers, no sympathy, double mamas You either in or you out, they don't even question it