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[Born Divine] Yo, your boy Born back, one hot track Another masterpiece for all my hood niggas The sting in the street, trying to survive, man We gotta get right and take care of fam So we hustle son, and play the block heavy I never snitch and never ran, when the chops sweat me I earn my stripes, listen, from the streets to prison Niggas know me, dog, and my divine mission I got the game now, like me and money green On the compound, yo, this a lock down And yea as clear as dawn and harm city Born Reppin' B-More for life, with that heat drawn I'm bout to take off boy, light years gone Lightspeed on, I breeze by, like whooo The way you going, to the top, man I can't stop fam, can't you niggas, tell? Look at this cartel, we moving weight now My CD's jamming like they told vows My flow so different, with so many styles Plus my voice ill, you boys better chill Cuz my fam kill, shhh, don't squeal Wheels peel out, and the darkness appear Like roaches when they see the lights You better get it right, cuz we ain't come to fight, ight? [Cappadonna] Sick with the flows, I spit for hoes I grind everyday, fuck cheeks in they holes Spark my yae, I'm still ghetto, with t-shirts Jeans hard and stiff, I don't give a fuck Shit, my Skwad is thick, we don't fall back Fuck, we in charge of the shit, fly suit, red Havana Joe's Muslim oil, I'm hood, nigga, what? Man, you know I'm spoiled New York City, what, you know I'm loyal Baltimore City, I got love for you Popped off the first time that I ever saw you Murdaland mixed with New York music It's something in the cosmic, making me use this I move slick, jump over cunts, prostitutes bitch Get up to my hair, the grooves is a bitch The Better Life, more papers, hoes and fishsticks Biscuits, sneak 'em in the club, icepicks Me and Clayborne, yo, we keep us a nice chick The police they ain't got us in they vicegrips [Little Clayway] Chilling in a nice whip, staying on some real shit Look kid, we got skills to pay the bills, and eat a meal, for real Even if a nigga gotta get killed I'mma get mine, fuck standing in that checkline, waiting on the government I'd rather grab the tech nine, fuck, go through hard times All the time, it's rough on the brother Got the d's, to stick up hoes and my baby mother Not a lover, I gotta use the rubber with the chick Can't trust her, child support sending me case numbers Game is sour, streets going under Uh, money is power, we ain't getting younger Yo, I'm like a lion with a five day hunger And I shine like the sun, in the middle of summer Uh, give me a beat and I flip that Start a record label and show you how I did that Give me some dat, you know it cost niggas some stacks Plus a nigga did it from scratch Used to be pushing them cracks, when a nigga had BBS's on the Ac', caught a flashback Grown now, speaking on facts Still talk slow when I rap, my nigga Cap My nigga Born in the back Wu-Tang, Clayway, what's fucking with that? [Chorus 2X: Cappadonna] My gang gon' kick ya'll ass My gang gon' kick ya'll ass My gang gon' kick ya'll ass And stomp ya'll niggas out [Outro: DJ Fontane] Yeah, the Better Life Movement Masterminds Productions Your boy DJ Fontane, Clayway Records You know how we hold it down Wu-South, uh |
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