N.F.L. (Not For Long) Masta Ace

Masta Ace:

Yeah, Yeah....Check it...

(Verse One)
All yall niggas better jet 'cause I'm a giant
Rap supplying, nigga that's raw like a Lion
I come from Brooklyn, land of robbers and Steelers
And drug dealers, that's more truck than eighteen wheelers
And last week this nigga named Ben, this drug Chief
From Brownsville that got stuck up and now it's beef
Cuz words out, that it was Shaquan from Cypress Hills
Who came off, with two hundred thou in small bills
But he forgot a Cardinal rule of the street
You do dirt, you keep your mouth shut, or feel the heat
Stupid! The very next day he bought a Benz
And came back 'round the way waving to his friends
His brand new 420 was milked like a Cow-
Boy, screaming, "How ya'll like me now?"
But you know how niggas is, they see and they Hawk
They get jealous when you pop shit, and then they talk
And Ben got hoes on the streets as well
One of Ben Gal's overheard this kid Latrell
And he was saying, that he was down with Shaquan
And if he didn't get a green Jaguar, then it was on
He was mad, cuz his man, was living larger
And he was still driving 'round his mom's dodge Charger
With no rims and beat up timbs, he played us
Sayin he'd hold the dough, the feds could Raidas
And in two weeks, everybody'd get they cut
When Ben found out it was them he said "what?"
He got on the phone and called his little gun Packers
Cuz they dressed like Black Panthers and drive geo trackers
And Broncos, with big ass tires and dark tint
And they all carried dessert Eagles, that's how it went