Released: March 5, 2014

Album: Cigar Society

My city so real out of towners wish they was the king of it
While the government shut down on their own, that's what I call self destruction
My young cousin died on the streets hustling
His daughter suffering, wow
He didn't live to one day walk her down the isle
I'll take his place, I'll be there in a suit and a smile
She don't gotta thank me, your daddy was brave
He would've did this for me if I was in the grave
Haters be sabotaging
Disrespect you on a website and call it blogging
All up in the comments
They say ''he was supposed to save rap from the nonsense''
Fell short, need food for thought, we are starving
He's good, his city bad, that's his installment
He think he better than his own city, that's preposterous
It's a problem my involvement is from
Brooklyn to Harlem, they depend on me to solve it
Hiding behind a major label fortress
Swims in pools of liquor, alcoholic
Stuck his neck out like an ostrich, he a moving target
To the death on you bastards
When I die put a street sweeper in my casket
And close it, just let me lay there with the ratchet
Yeah, dust to dust and ashes to ashes
So the snake who killed me could walk in laughing
By the grace of God I'mma jump up blasting
Acting like you built, you'se a fucked up has-been
I dress with a gun talk fashion
I'm a monster, sucker [?]
I spit America's Most Wanted bars
My willpower got more will than a hundred cars
I'mma show these niggas how to deal, just cut the cards
You'se a cocksucking broad, look
You got something you wanna get off your chest besides your fucking bra
Stop throwing hints, throw shots, confront it, pa
I don't got drama with none of y'all
But I hope you niggas kill each other, I don't like neither one of y'all
You can go try and get whoever you want involved
Tell 'em I'm a problem that they can't fucking solve
Acting like you really thugging hard and bucking crons
He thugging because of y'all
They put the battery in your back, now you think you a fucking star
Hit you on the back and blow the battery out of your stomach, pa
Who died and left them in charge?
Carried so many hoods on my shoulders I need somebody to give me a massage
Selling jars of weed if he pull out another jar
Fuck hugging the block, I'mma have him hugging God
Cross me and your heart won't live to beat another throb
My gun got fired so much it needed another job
I told you in Alphabetic Slaughter I was at large
My whole burrough be bucking crons
You can't come to Coney Island bumping niggas, you bugging, pa
You ain't just brushing pads, nigga, you bumping hard
Next time make sure you know who you bumping, pa
Most of my Coney Island niggas'll leave you slumped on them bumping cars
Stop saying you won't get a nigga who front and rob
I don't care if you won't, I would like a lumber yard
Every time you see the entourage we come to rob
Charge with a barrage, regardless coming hard
Hit harder than Bernard, we parked in your garage
Your broad's in a menage, hearts becoming large
Your dogs is docking, dodge us, your squad is running job
Arson grand larceny lancing
Bars of pardon in front of y'all
Carve a couple scars
Harlem, some parts of Yonkers
Way across the Bronx and from
Cradle to coffin, give a fatal abortion
I'm able to off 'em, Brook'
Now I'm the [?] buzzing hard
Don't cross the reservoir
Dog, see you at the next mob, the son of song