Victory (Live In Hawaii)

(album: Money In The Bank - 2003)

One, one, two
(Non-stop)
Yo, check me out right here yo

Yo, yo we can't stay alive forever
So if shit hit the fan then we might as well die together
I'm high as ever, more holes and more cheddar
G-Unit move around with them pounds and Berettas
Yea faggot, if I want it I'm gon' have it
Regardless if it's handed to me or I gotta grab it
Don't make a ass outta yaself trying to stop me
I'm cocky, raps rocky, nigga you sloppy
You know that I'm, 8 levels above you, nigga
I'll club you nigga, I never heard of you, nigga, ugly nigga
I'm the wrong one to provoke
You ratting on niggas is only gon' leave you smoke
So the only thing left now is tools for these cowards
I got no friends, fuck most of these cowards
They pop shit 'til we start approaching these cowards
While we lay around dollars, they lay around flowers

I got a industry gangstress, that argues, and steams the reefer
And flip when I call her bitch, like she Queen Latifah
Not all the vehicle's is long enough to stash the street sweeper
This shit can get uglier than the Master P sneaker
We slidin through the ruckus, with Prada on the chuckus
So the spring break hoes home from college wanna fuck us
I ain't here to drop knowledge on you suckas
I sic Rottweilers on you fuckas, cops following to cuff us
Top dollars to discuss this, whole lot of zeros
When it comes to paper, I blow a soul out a hero
I'ma break before I lay floor buried
Besides, every rapper ain't a star, and every plad ain't Burberry
You can't tame Lloyd, smoking by the big screen
Changing the channel, looks like I'm playing the Game Boy
I know the watch bothering ya vision
But reach, and I'll put a dot on ya head like it's part of your religion
Why party with a pigeon?
I'm blowing a 10 'cause Bush handing flyers for a party in a prison
I'm in the Gucci vest, with the green and red straps
I'm the last rapper to scare niggas since Craig Mack
Now every morning's a fast start
And there ain't problem getting dressed 'cause my closet got more aisles than Pathmark
Run, move starting a wave
Or leave with 12 shells in ya mouth like a carton of eggs
I'm the young pimp pardon my age
I don't got long hair but if I did she be parting my braids
Niggas find what club they at
Take 'em with us, and run a train on 'em like a subway map
Your advance is grey Acura
See these record labels got most artists getting fucked like the gay rapper
I go to college on the tour
I'm going down in history nigga, next to Wallace and Shakur
I keep ya ammo clean, text polished in the drawer
Camera's by the hamper that mine into the floor
By now, you probably heard of me
Fresh outta surgery, flashy as a fuck, you gon' have to murder me
Burglary, I'm leaving with your Nikes burgundy, white tee: burgundy
You match now, back down
Niggas love to hate you, but love you when you disappear
Catch me on the boat with weed smoke and fishing gear
Heavy when I toke, C-notes from different years
Bezzy and the rope, remotes and liftin chairs
You ain't rich, but we glad to snatch ya
I send cars to your crib like I'm a cab dispatcher
You better off with the stupid guys, looking for a coupe to drive
You ain't gettin nutting but ya French fries supersized
It's a damn shame y'all still local
I'm in a million dollar studio layin my vocals, nigga

Still in the projects nigga, you ain't going nowhere
You gon' fucking be there for the rest of your muthafucking life
And your momma sayin': I'm supposed to tell you something
To encourage you, something positive, aight:
Well, I ain't gon' lie to you muthafucka, he ain't going nowhere
Get yourself a beer, and get on the fucking curb
You fucking dirt bag