[Intro: Big Tone]
Yeah
[?] this one, can't go [?]
This how we do!
Tone, let's go!

[Verse 1: Big Tone]
Imagine what it took, scrambling with crooks
Writing raps with a crack [?] cooked in the hood
I took the D and trapped in a book, gave rap a different look
Graphic as it looks, Casper's getting shocked, shaken
Lottery pick, first take I Lebron James it
Do a track, write a rap, and spit a hook dangerous
Coppers laugh, Bring It Back and get it cooked Famous
This crook language (Yeah) My slang is praised
But 'em [butch masters bust?] daily
And bad boys follow my lead, I'm Chuck Daly, but I can bust Baileys
What or ifs ands, I sit back with 'em big cats, brick slabbed
In the six cab, slipped past
And this cat with the big swagger, George Jefferson stеpping
Call Hart, Kev with a weapon, repping
Wastе a youth and still connect with 7...Mile
The Ol' English "D", I rep my session proud
Money over hoes, money know the ropes
And know it's role, tryna get money is a money overdose
Yeah, yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah yeah yeah
[Refrain: 87]
Oh 7, Oh 7, Oh

[Verse 2: 87]
Excuse me lady it's your boy young 80
Nope I don't trick, uh uh, not Jay-Z
Nah slow up bitch I'm not him
I spit a hood at [?] you a rap soft rim
I cut coke with such precession
Bust 'em like Martha Stewart up in the kitchen
Tote big cannons that'll stop your living
This is how I was raised, pissed-poor without a pot to piss in
Rob your ass like "Thank's for giving" (Very much)
Throw up a peace sign like "Save The Children"
Had a nice lil run, now your reign is over
Catch you at a light and snatch you out your Rover
What the fuck you fronting for n***a, you ain't no soilder
Detroit n***as got big guns [?]
So please believe that we was after the cheese dawg
After the dough we was after the skrilla, police in 5 states still after this n***a
Disease of this rap shit, I'm cancerous n***a
Somebody calm me down before I cancel this n***a

[Verse 3: Remember]
Yo Big Jewels, is ill shit that I done is all paid off
N***a's shoes ain't big enough to fill prints when I step off
A house and many things was bumping in cash that I made all
Chosen videos, baby in Vogue 'cause I came off
Remember [?] a smirk on my face when I let off
Know this shit is heated, scatter your brains like a sawed off
N***as fight like a [?] waiting for the stars set off
You're wrong, fuck with me and poss' and your flesh'll get blowed off
For real, y'all rowdy handling things when it pop off
Body bags, I be fed, shitting in bags 'cause he showed off
While he's waiting anxiously for n***as like me to get dropped off
His store's at Sam Goody's [?] n***as yell "Back off!"
A born star, platinum hits is the shit that I eat off
[?] that's what I live off
Lifestyle is rude, embarrass a n***a, say "Fuck off!"
Y'all better get this dick [or dunk on the stage and got throwned up?]
[Verse 4: Lo Louis]
Big fella we will squash your ass
[?] with the Monster Mash
You get chopped in half then plopped in bags
Put out on the curb with the rest of the trash
Just ask for them n***as in the Cartier glasses
Not the ones twisted up with the [balls/bars?] all backwards
But the ones tinted up rubbing my eyelashes
Giving girls hot flashes fast, that's how we get 'em
Cartier I wear with diamonds in 'em
The finest women, I'm just tryna jizzle 'em
No time for wine and dining with 'em
I just knew this day would come from day 1
When I was young I used to have big dreams
One day I'd be a big fella doing big things
Lo Louis, and if you got a problem with you
I got something that'll shut up the critics, y'all can get it

[Verse 5: Guilty Simpson]
I tote Mac 10s, ‘cause I’m like Parcels
Man I need that win but I don’t need that [?]
I remember Beat Street watching Lee backspin
Now the year’s '04, and Detroit back, in affect
On a Friday, I take your check
On the highway, I race your 'Vet
Do what I say or pay direct
I even cruise by your video and spray your set
And murder the extras with an all black Heckler
Man, I’m pro-gun and a pro-fessional when I choose to hold one
Man, screw your verses, this Russian roulette
With automatic guns, guy you go first
I’m large like a sumo shirt
Fed up with you pseudo-jerks that don’t do no work
And while you in your little circle sayin’ rhymes
Don’t ask me to spit, ‘cause I ain’t got time! What!
[Refrain: Marv Won]
Jewels! Jewels!
The shit was nice man but it was missing one thing
It was missing Marv Won from The World-Famous Fat Killahz (Bitch shut up)
That's all you need, that's all you need! ('Fore I kill you n***a)
...And about 4 other n***as (I'm gangsta)
But me? But me?
I gotta be on this bitch
That's what I do n***a (Fat Killahz n***a)

[Verse 6: Marv Won]
Yeah I keep a Smith & Wesson lick TEC and steel
So when I say I got a contract for you I ain't talking 'bout a record deal
Man I'm talking about that paper that'll get you killed
With n***as in my hood trying to bring me home your neck and grill
Peep game, these thangs release flames
Leak your brains, leave your ass deceased mane
No questions with a gun I'm so [Heston?]
I'm a star man, I should've been on pro wrestling
Any thug you know, please go get them!
So I can blow they asses into space like George Jetson
Or Captain Kirk, these gat's squirt
I'll clap a jerk, introduce his back to dirt
Fuck you trying to fight? You can die tonight
I been here before, I used to be Willie Dynamite
Marvin Won, the n***a you quoting
And the reason your ass is sleeping with one eye open, bitch

[Refrain: Proof]
I'm used to being with players that be on the real battlefield
So fuck with y'all n***as, come home Jewels

[Verse 7: Proof]
Ayo it's Proof bitch, rush you like Bruce Smith
Bust through your crew and smack them loose lips (Bitch!)
You see me in the club then you walk out quick sir!
Always won and Marshall Faulk ass n***a
You the type to make hits and get dick by Suge
When I'm in zone, I shuffle in your face like Ickey Woods
Everything about you weak, get your body beat
And sit your sorry ass on the side with Rodney P
You not as sweet as you think, with the boring raps
I run through your weak ass lines, I'm Warren Sapp
You sound like Al Capone when you rap, oh you love movies
Bitch I be in the game for a while like Doug Flutie
Or Testaverde muthafucka I bless you early
Nothing to do with a [migraine/Mike Green?] when I hit your chest with 30
My mere presence will make your sweat you hard
'Cause my firearm known to throw bullets like Brett Favre, muthafucka

[Refrain: Proof & Ty Farris]
Ayo it's like this [?] y'all n***as playing [?] in 2004
Me and my I.F. n***as [?] in 2004, right (They mad!)
[?] trying to get this muthafucking cream n***a [?]

[Verse 8: Ty Farris]
Listen when that pistol blow
It'll kiss you like you under a mistletoe, pop your 'til your gristle show
It's nothing 'cause my gun game is crazed
It ain't a hairstyle when that pump in your waves, listen
Know the procedure when I run up on you clowns
Put your hands up, like referees after touchdowns
Come on your block with guns and start squeezing
So many bloody shirts it'll look like a Blood meeting
There's 4 options if I beef with a n***a
Coffin, casket, urn or the bottom of a river
I love when Nas but when that chrome spark
It'll shoot the guts out of any Braveheart, come on
I spill like a dart in dark with no heart
And my gun full of shit, in your face where it fart, listen
You don't want part, you know you ain't thug
The only time you hard when you leave out of titty club, muthafuckas

[Refrain: Ty Farris & Mu]
Yeah, Purple Gang
Yo, whatupdoe

[Verse 9: Mu]
What in the world would possess you to test Mu?
When I’m done, I’ll make you say I’m the wrong n***a to step to
I come to your job and molest you, wanna bet? You
The only reason you rhyming right now is because I let you
Wanna win? You got better chances winnin’ the lotto’
‘Cause your rhymes ain't worth the [?] prize off of a pop bottle (Bitch!)
I took your confidence when you first came in
I beat your ass while surfing in the middle of a hang ten
You can’t win! How many different ways I have to say that shit in?
Known for bone breakin’ before Satan committed a sin
Battlin’ me is worse than going to the pen with your hands taped to your shins
With a note sayin’ hours are from now until then, listen
I gives a damn if you rhyme decent
Give me one reason I turn you [deep?] into a self destruct sequence, see
You the type of n***a to talk shit about me
But you probably couldn’t sell one unit on a double LP
Rappin’ about the money ‘cause your friends are wealthy
Not saying I know, but they tell me your live show is L.D
So keep my name outta your mouth
And stay the fuck from the front of my house, before I blow your shit out, bitch!

[Verse 10: Journalist 103]
I'm on the whole 'nother level before you try to step to this
Detroit All-Start you best make a deal with the devil
Because I ain't spitting nothing but flammable gasses
With a mixture of lava and a pitcher of battery acid
I'm a lyrical dragon so fuck when I fly through
I'm merciless with them hot lines, that's how I scorch you
N***a be for real
The Animalz have entered the building with a prime objective, with nothing to kill
You lack lyrical skill
I put you on the same plane as a fat chick, something I refuse to feel
So fuck getting a deal, you really need an alternative
Before my alter ego kicks in and beats you merciless