[Intro: The Jacka]
Yea, yo, Jack
Dnyce sup boy
They know we mafia boy
I think they know what this is
Yea

[Verse 1: The Jacka]
Niggas hold it down from Chi-Town to Baton Rouge
Any nigga come with that Mob sound could never lose
Off a quarter pound it all sounds incredible
I can hold it in but its better if I tell you bout
Flat black 7-1 everything electric yo
Just cause I traffic don't mean I expect you to
I'm in the streets where it's all about respect you know
Triple-stack Styrofoam damn its hard to let it go
Windows up medicating next to Highway Patrol
I don't give a fuck with the steel clutched I'm on the move
Yea that's the shit that you go through soon
Lean on my vocal tone, king I don't need the throne
Stacks so big ain't supposed to fold
Posters on the wall in every home they very known
Whoever thought this crime shit could carry on
Might seem scary from a place you gotta carry chrome
36 lights shine bright on these cherry clones
Headed down the 101 thinking bout the miles I drove
Could last forever when everybody's mouths are closed
But if you telling grab the gasoline douse your clothes
Toss a match watch you burn till all doubts removed
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