I don't do much, sit on the block in that lavendar Range
Waitin' for fiends, pass 'em the caine, y'all n***as is lame
Y'all don't really want beef with the Game
Give 'em a hundred thou, ease his pain
You don't ride through the 'hood, motherfucker that ain't your Navy 6
All you do is drive Jay-Z's shit
N***a you ain't hardcore, n***a you ain't never won no awards
Only stood behind Dame when he was thankin' the lord
You a fag, n***a you know your rhymes ain't ill
And state property' the closest you ever been to a mill
You ain't hot with that wack ass album you dropped
The whole Roc know Beans came and took your spot
You a joke, tax write off for Russell and Hov
Why you think they keep you around when you only went gold
Whoo Kidd let him know who put the B-I in bitch, faggot
Couldn't sell a record with T.I. and Trick Daddy
N***a talkin' that shit, I crush him
And this ain't got nothin' to do with Quik and Busta