1998

I was blessed with the sharpest tongue in the land

Fuck around I hit a lick and slice you up where you stand

Tryna' be on G shit, you should run while you can

You know there's less room for error with a gun in your hand

Know youngin's known to throw punches till they numb in the hands

And like in high school flicks they gon' come for the bands

Bet when them youngin's rolled up in a roughed up sedan

And fucked up your mans too it wasn't something you planned

Shit they jealous in the field where I steadily build

So when I'm stacking a mill I'll be strapping to kill

They always making empty threats but never check em' for real