Featuring 12 O’Clock, Napolean
[Chorus (x2): Joe Mafia]
Global thug politics, every man in his argument
We form as one, who can abolish it?
Projects the heart of this
Catch heat, but 4 novelists
The pain is deep, try and swallow this
[12 O’Clock — Brooklyn Zu]
Niggaz know my steez, I jet to D.C.
Chromed-down M3, nigga that play B.E.T.
Joe Clair, why these faggot-ass niggaz stare?
Don’t they know my man carry big bear and don’t care?
They say he hold a nigga fruit like pear
Pussy, come here, let me whisper in your ear
I make your clit disappear
I play the wizard, bring blizzard
4-4 heavy when I left it, Puffy shit I dis it
For them locks, I bring Vietnam shots
If you dare beatbox down my block
Pussy-ass niggaz gotta hire cops
Remember one thing, Wu niggaz don’t stop
[Joe Mafia]
It’s like sortin out down a fresh bundle
Drain my pain on your brain muscle
The custle, 2 cats to die hustlin
Fiend creamin men, lavish establishment
Ghetto Politics, Syndicate benifit, die filithy rich
Kille the benidict, chicks get the rented dick
Tossin heads off, the venomous sunnin the latest
My whole team roll to blow steam
Put you in a smash, nickel gleam
Tied to your ass, roll out the welcome mat
The red carpet war onslaught, you the target
I’m black market when the NARC’s hiss, spittin the sharp shit
Mafi-ay, V.A., Playstation, R.C.A
Sippin on cabosi-ay, who could take a lose a day?
Jizzed them heads, I shitted, my style shifted
Them out-of-town niggaz tried to quiz it, cockin the biscuit
Shattered thugs is ice mugs, the tied to nose
Long-dickin in and out of hoes without the specticles
[Chorus (x2)]
[Myalansky]
Cut you at the side of your face, keep my dart bent
Benz wagon limo tint, play me, my flick
Marlon Brando, Lucky Lou-ando gamble with large chips
Project scandles I handle, still on some calm shit
Darts spit, Mr. Corleone’s orders for cross water
Myalansky, As astatsian type, pearl torture
Street cat burn your empire, your sin of course sourcer
Arm-leg-head, duct tape, now torcher
Vet kid responsible, word is his mouth leaked
Claimin peace, cousin he lyin, hit him on south street
Hit him once we dead him, forget him, losin no sleep
Chain brand, bottle of perfume found in the back seat
Little Mickey start from right hand, J.Jeep
Teflon, King of New York, stupid you mad meef