| Hook: dmx |
| Drag-on, niggas act on |
| Messin wit the team it’s gon be a sad song |
| X, will bring the day and the night |
| Cuz we get it right, get it right, get it right, spit it right |
| Moves is made, niggas is paid, that’s just how it is |
| When my time is up i’ma be out but i’ma try to live |
| I’m eatin day by day, aint nothin sweet about it |
| Act like you don’t know what i’m sayin then you read about it |
| Built for war like a armadillo |
| Smokin yo' ass put two through the pilllow |
| Hear my shit through windows |
| Manic depressive and my head hurts |
| Soon as the dead thirst i’ll whet him first |
| Now wait a minute it gets worse |
| I can’t control what i own inside |
| So i take it out on the soul of that kid that died |
| Spit fire, cross niggas like barbecues |
| Mobbin crews, strippin niggas, robbin crews |
| And put him speechless, when i made him eat this |
| Hollow tip and you can follow grip |
| You be like kim and aint gon swallow shit |
| Don’t know the half, couldn’t know the math |
| To understand the wrath of a man split in half |
| But he got what he wanted, shot for three hundred |
| Shit is tight and a nigga that’s right gots to run it |
| Aint no question, that’s how i get down |
| Niggas know gimme yo' dough and yo' hoe, and here take these fo' |
| Hot things i got things that make niggas spin |
| Put niggas in the wind, where you never see niggas again |
| Bless a nigga with fifties the thin types |
| And a straight blast that’ll put pinstripes across your windpipe |
| Hook 2x |
| Drag opposite water more than a spot order |
| My flows cause fire then bring holes |
| Takes more than a pump to out this little punk |
| 'less that pump is a twelve, and i get popped, still i burn to hell |
| Call the police and whatever they don’t seize |
| And put in they mouth, and catch freeze, tell em throw drag some keys |
| Don’t care how many oyeas i gotta make believe |
| If you nervous, you don’t deserve it poppi please |
| Cats stealin gats y’all probably will get hit |
| Well i’m the future let’s see y’all copy this, stopping this |
| Since a tiny kid like, «mommy buy me this» |
| Since she always told me no, started stealin on some grimy shit |
| Like look at that, now look at that slide it in my bookbag |
| I’m who, parents point they fingers at, «get from that hoodrat» |
| And put it back, fuck tough, while y’all cook crack |
| I’m cocaine, throw me in the pot, i rise to the top |
| With your 5.0, go 'head, look ma, i got four more pegs |
| Stil put them holes in yo' head, til it’s mushy like dough bread |
| Cuz that vest only protects that chest |
| And if i decide to get ice, don’t get to fascinated |
| Or it’s my bullet, your brain, mashed potatoes |
| Double r got me comin hard on you haters |
| Cuz we the streets black and y’all belong beneath that |