I don't think I ain't got my head in the streets, you know, I ain't a chit-chatter, yeahAlrighty, all hail the almighty, despite all of your false-ityAllergies that occupy the top, your cream of the crop's all slightlyLight in the air, cause I'm all lightningJab, jab, cross, jab, uppercut, jab, lookI'm all Brooklyn like Zab's hook, my ab took money before rapI was partner with some bad crooks, lookin' like your pops in the faceI had your dad shook, shorty don't get popped in the faceOr get that ass whooped, grew up where crack cookedYou typin' on a apple, I'm from the rotten appleDifferent version of how Max look, extended clip diesel like ShackfootMy rap book saved a lot of newFrom that pain I was givin' out, that cane I was dishin' outNot the crack fiends, I'm talkin' bout the last scene whereCane was just spittin' out, lookin' up at StaceyNow you got a StaceyThey say you keep playin' with fire, you burnEvery time I play with fire, I acquire returnsOn my investment, and lessons you be dyin' to learnLike don't sleep on dishonesty and lyin' to earnAnytime I'm on a beat, I treat it like it's my turnThe verdict's out till your hearing's adjourned, it's firmPut my life in these sentences, it's bars foreverI put scars together, regardless whoever you markin' is betterAll you marks mark for death when I mark up this paperI'm grade A according to legends, that's markin' my paperSo when you act like you the best, that's awkward behaviorBut don't call me the savior, I'm just awesomely favoredWhen you got rappin' power, you can take half a bar offLike it's happy hour, my chat devours half you cowardsPlease don't pass me flowers till my casket's loweredOr I'm ashes, here's a classic hourWe use words like honor, code, loyaltyWe use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending somethingYou use them as a punchlineI grew up where crip signs are threw upThey dressed like suicide bombers, they clothes blew upMy burner is the Star Trek EnterpriseThe hard tech energized, lift your whole crew upYou cappin' like Kirk, though, the way your work goStill passin' home, round the circle, noOne main * out of MercoSince smashin' a purple turbo Porsche goin' berserk-oYour body droppin'While I'm knockin' out some featuresGoin' dumb in the booth like NickDroppin' out of English after sockin' out the teacherI crocodile my sneakers, I'm flippin' policemenOff with Pac, poppin' out the speakersI was that poor kid climbin' in your windowFixed me a bowl of cereal, then I just stole your stereoSold that * on Imperial, with my old materialMy bars bring death to your earsBut you don't hear meBust a cap cause I'm hardcoreDouble back, that's an encoreCouple Macs in a duffel bag and a hundred racks in the car doorLong beach, over bags, got colostomiesStrikin' up that gang tag on million dollar propertyGet hit with choppers properly, they spit with high velocityBlastmaster Chris, this is my philosophyHuh, dee-dee-dee-da-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-da-dee-dayWe can get you touched if you in New York or LAHardHonor, code, loyaltyWe can get you touched if you in New York or LA