[Chorus: Tech N9ne]
You tell 'em that we stack if anybody ask ya
Beef with the N9na then you're gon' decease you bastards
[?]
This Mr. Steep Pockets, bitch!

[Verse 1: Rich The Factor]
I'm a, businessman who handle business stuff with big fishes
Ten-figure digits, 21-inch, too wide for body business
Stackin' in's, packin' Mack 10, and then what's it?
Six shots, [?] through close range, got whole thangs, for 1-7
And if you ready to get some cheddar, you best to roll with me
'Cause I'm winnin' while they spend, I'm holdin' out [?]
Tryna roll out 10 for your call, lieutenant
If that don't work, that's when our haul is out
Call the flame, I'm hella [?] like Tech N9ne's [?] a godfather
If I was to cop 10's without, you're shut down
Your four, a hundred rounds, bust the towns, you can barely hear
It's Kansas City for the shit
So why you suckers hatin'?
We paper chase on [?], petite Lexus coupe
Let's have Capris, or a Oldsmobile, Chevy too
You petty fools, best to recognise the [?], mane
That's where I stay, we all play
Now I ain't
[Chorus: Tech N9ne]
You tell 'em that we stack if anybody ask ya
Beef with the N9na then you're gon' decease you bastards
[?]
This Mr. Steep Pockets, bitch!

[Verse 2: Tech N9ne]
Our pockets are deep, deep
Six feet under six feet, that's where the Tecca Nina sleep, creep
With these bitches in my city, keep my relish hella steep, peep
The style-lee, n***as wanna fine me-me, with the nine milli
You can find N-9-N-E, on the Fi-V-E, six, with a bitch
All over my dick, so quick, that it's sick, trip
We the greatest, to you fiendish, and I mean this
I'm a motherfucker, who a motherfucker? Tech N9ne
Bitches love my space age pocket figures
Symptoms of a steep pocket n***a
Now, that I'm on Juan, a brother's, Quincy Jones, and MidWestSide, I'ma ride
In a drop-top Jag in a mini-mansion, with a Tec-9 on my side
And we got them pockets, n***a
Playa haters wanna stop it, n***a
At a ATM, a n***a with a gun behind you, yellin' "drop it, n***a!"
When they see you in magazines they dream of havin' that green
So they claim, they hang out witcha
Catch you slippin' and take yo' picture
Keep your money and your women down, n***a
That shit's on the low
'Cause it'll be a shame to lose 500 G's over a muh'fuckin' hater, and a ho
Been livin' in Kansas City for 26 years, from Way-Money to 56
Used to be broke but now I got hookers all over my dick
Bitches know when I get paid
Constantly gettin' my dick laid
In Cali I gets fucked off for "Questions", in KC, it's "Mitch Bade"
These n***as call me down to wreck some shit
Flex with the best so I meshed and mixed
Donnie Qwest keep my Benjamins crisp
And they know, that's why they sellin' Tecca Nina to flow
Haters can't stop it, 'cause Kansas City n***as pack them steep pockets
[Chorus: Tech N9ne]
You tell 'em that we stack if anybody ask ya (Hahaha)
Beef with the N9na then you're gon' decease you bastards
[?]
This Mr. Steep Pockets, bitch!

[Verse 3: Snug Brim]
Situations, come clean with the cash gotta chase it like Bill Gates
And pull ma, every year with the Yay'
Keep a n***a hustlin' for the pay
Started off with seven grams, flipped it twice, re-copped the stash, snow
Trickin' off for the ears I'm proper, ten on that ass, it makes me chemist
With another toy for the scheme, "get cream" our motto
Work my way to a home 36, get rounds today, well that's tomorrow
Tryin' not to see pain nor sorrow
We get our [?], stay close to my house, follow the leader
Bitch n***as, we stackin' chips, 30 ounce, six figures
Call me a Midwest Desperado, ho, 'cause of my chip game
I'm plastic, baggin' all you ho n***as that's hatin', representin' K-town
Face now, pay later, bust a hater not bubblin'
You strugglin'? Well I'm hustlin'
Tryna make my money, keep doublin'
For I bust it (Weed), when I get a chance
Walk three biddies in a dance
Pursuin' dollar bills with a plan
Season, take the cross and they shame
I should be hot like Satan
Yes, awake, man, expand your Visa
Put my cheese in the safe hands
Fuck the K-clan it's paper season
N***a, to hell with braggin', either, gotta have it, flowin' like Niagara
Cheese and big blunts, the door don't snatch and Jack flies and aggra'
Snug Brim, spectacular, [?] one of the best
Go for the scrill, ask Young Richard, Tech
[Chorus: Tech N9ne]
You tell 'em that we stack if anybody ask ya
Beef with the N9na then you're gon' decease you bastards
[?]
This Mr. Steep Pockets, bitch!
You tell 'em that we stack if anybody ask ya
Beef with the N9na then you're gon' decease you bastards
[?]
This Mr. Steep Pockets, bitch!
You tell 'em that we stack if anybody ask ya
Beef with the N9na then you're gon' decease you bastards
[?]
This Mr. Steep Pockets, bitch!