[Verse 1: Styles P]
If the love don't work, what would money do?
I'ma need that G pickup truck colored honey dew (Wooh)
Cantaloupe-colored interior
Whoever act superior, we'll pop 'em with the .22 (Well, hah)
Have a car and a condo at 22 (Facts)
Bird on the birds comin' up route 22
Ain't a cup of liquor, but niggas know he's a hundred proof (Hey now)
Cut the legs off of niggas sayin' they run with you
I'm a pothead, the cool homie to vibe with
Violate, you oughta bring a homie to die with (You oughta)
I'll blow an eight, think of steaks that I could buy in
Cop an estate, think of weight that I could fly in
Can you hear me now like Verizon
King of New York, bang your head right on the hydrant
Pops always told me to think out the box
So when you think about the best, nigga, think of The Lox

[Chorus: Westside Gunn]
(Flygod)
Ayo, half a mill on the neck, got 'em big mad
You think you takin' the shit, you gettin' shit back
Blew two hundred, got the coupe all red
The real locked up and the best all dead
That's facts, 30+ clips and that's that
I aim for the body, but I hit all that
These rap niggas ain't real
Shoot out the Cullinan, one hand on the wheel
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