New Missy, Richie Moka, Nicole, T.J. Clue What high we droppin', what now we stoppin' Y'all rock-toppin', we bottle-poppin' Y'all block-watchin', we watch-coppin' Y'all car-hoppin', cause now we got it locked in We dedicated, y'all featherweight You better skate, cause we never late Won't have a case in back, I said it straight But you can't bet what you never made I'm the same cat from the same trash That had to bring crack when you play that When I spit, move way back, you get sprayed at I write my own shit, bitch, can you say that? A lot of y'all MCs talk more shit Talkin' bout the hits and all the whips you dip I know most of y'all rappers live dead broke I go to your accountant and he say no dough Rappin' bout the weed and you can't even roll If I blow you a gun, nigga, can't even smoke Why you gotta front when you whackin' shit? Me and Moka, we ain't bragging, bitch I ain't gotta rap about the dough I hold And I ain't bout to talk about the cars I drove And I ain't gotta front about the shoes I blow Turn on your radio, CB control Uh, inspect that D, put on the vest with me And testin' me, I hit your chest with three Let's make it clear that we gon' take it there Weigh the pairs in the club, take a rest Moka here, call me the richest chick With the thickest chips and the quickest whip Get a grip, watch what you try with me Dump variety, I get it done lively My rhymes, they like, they really, really like They for it, adore it, so come let them enjoy My rhymes, they like, they really, really like They for it, adore it, so come let them enjoy Woo, I get it hot like heat You the MC that pose to scare me Ah, scream till my voice get hoarse Spit on the mic, make all y'all morse Hey, you don't wanna fuck with me And if you do, then you've been practicing And no one even told you who I was Well, I'ma set it off and show you who I am Goddamn, I got skills like a thief And while you sleep, I snatch out all your teeth Hey, you don't really want that beef I repeat, you don't really want that beef I said, hey, you don't really want that beef Now you know not to mess with me Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh A lot of y'all MCs talk more shit Talkin' bout the hits and all the whips you dip I know most of y'all rappers live dead broke I go to your accountant and he say no dough Rappin' bout the weed and you can't even roll If I blow you a gun, nigga, can't even smoke Probably gotta front when you whackin' shit Me and Mocha, we ain't bragging, bitch I ain't gotta rap about the dough I hold And I ain't bout to talk about the cars I drove And I ain't got a point about the shoes I blow Turn on your radio, CB control My rhymes, they like, they really, really like They fight, adore it, so come let them enjoy My rhymes, they like, they really, really like They fight, adore it, so come let them enjoy My rhymes, they like, they really, really like They fight, adore it, so come let them enjoy My rhymes, they like, they really, really like They fight, adore it, so come let them enjoy Word up, word up, word up