currency, the money be callin It's like I'm - dreamin, see in season me ballin Participated in felonious behavior Cock the cocked fo'-five, snatchin ni**az pagers Labeled a mark
fucked your wife We bust on Bad Boys niggas fuck for Life Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak Hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia Some mark ass bitches
bust your wife We bust on Bad Boys brothers touch for life Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak, hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia is some mark
bottle of C-B Inglewood Gangstas, W-D-Z Throwin' up the C what the fuck you sign!? Puffin' on a blunt goin' outta my mind The O-G Dog is rollin' Rickets
the mornin with the full moon out Niggaz in they trucks creepin With a fresh box of ecstasy pills for these bitches {Verse One} Yeah, team select, please collect, G
Baron, it's worth hundreds, say something Niggas fronting while we doubling, pump 'em And lay 'em right in front of the steps The new Mark Cuban, Mavericks
black max, in the trunk you pump Never take what I earn Jus made a million plus, we got money to burn Catch me in the quarter ?? Wit the triple arm Hoppin out G
new year turned my Schlitz straight to a spliff My eyes stay glazed all day My food for thought, it holds weight And now worldwide for ten G's a plate
5-11, street smarts since seven Fuck the nun, jack the reverand, still make heaven [Chorus: w/ more Tim Dog ad libs] [Tim Dog] Run 'em down, run 'em down Mark
Ghostface Killah, Kool G. Rap) [Ghostface Killah] Yea, yea It's like rap pa', huh? What? Y'all bitch-ass niggas, what? What? Leave a mark on your face
is like this from Yonkers to Mount V Some niggaz'll count ki's, get knocked rat and bounce free What part of the game is a game without G's Drive through
phat Ghost, them came March 1st My eighth platoon got murked, got burnt for all our work After the funeral, I played low, countin' my last ten g's Three
at that lil' ass Westside loc'ed out insane-in-the-brain little nigga servin 'caine Use to have to ask could he cross the street Now he's rollin in a G, the G
odds are G I plug one in your artery You'll need more triggers, I heat all spitters And like to welcome y'all to W, B-4 nigga Huhh, oh yeah nigga, I'
I'm L-L-G, till I go We ain't givin' a fuck, nigga, will I blow? You know [chorus] [verse three: Livio] On your mark, get set, go! Hold on tight, don
niggas out the hood daily Yo weekly, monthly, yearly Until them mark-ass fools see clearly that I'm down, it's the capital C-P-T Marks can't fuck with