You know who this is
It's your boy, Juelz Santana
Juelz Santana, Dipset in this bitch
This is that 3rd gang shit
It's that 3rd gang shit
Sky baller, Skyy baller
Red set, blue set, Mac 10s and few Tecs
My killers on the payroll will leave your whole crew wet
You been in the house, nigga, you ain't paid dues yet
I been in the streets, nigga, you ain't heard the news yet
Before I hit the grind, I make the show, I got my shit tight
My vest fit right, 4-5th finna spit right
Niggas mad I'm number one, I can't settle for less
Hands down, I'm the hottest young thug on the West
Niggas sayin' I knew baller back when his name was Scars
When he used to push 'caine on the curb, before the birds
We used to hustle together, this, that and the third
But we ain't never broke bread together, 'cause you's a nerd
I move thangs cross the border
So playboy, hurry up and place your order
Nigga, I'll teach you how to get rich
Flip bricks and get chips
Holla at the kid, nigga, if you need a quick fix
I turn a G into a ki', man, I mean real fast
Before I had a deal, I already had a mil' stashed
Street life, I keep ice on my wrist, playa
If you tryna score big, boy, here's an assist, playa
We young baller ballers, young hustler hustlers
We 'bout them dollars, bitch, we don't fuck with busters, suckers
We got big rings, big thangs, big chains
We hustle hard in the streets and move big 'caine
Cross game, we'll split your wig, man
'Cause we ain't afraid to die or do a bid, man
Fillmore to Harlem, we ballin', you underdig, man
This is real talk and that's what it is, man
I heard niggas try shit on me and make history
Never will that happen, forever I'm gat clappin'
I grab the Beretta or black Magnum
Ask 'em what's the problem and dead 'em in that fashion
Am I waitin'? Hell no, am I playin'? Hell no
Does this here look like the David Chappelle Show?
My 12 little clip shells gon' spit
Or take off your head quicker than a Velcro strip
Old school, see how my shelltoes fit
Thick laces, big faces, sell all hip
Call me and I'm quick with the lead
You think my bullets had crazy glue
The way them shits stick to your head
Nigga, if you ain't gettin' my bread, if you ain't gettin' my spread
You'll be dead where the pigeons get fed, punk
Dipset, eat a dick and die
We young baller ballers, young hustler hustlers
We 'bout them dollars, bitch, we don't fuck with busters, suckers
We got big rings, big thangs, big chains
We hustle hard in the streets and move big 'caine
Cross game, we'll split your wig, man
'Cause we ain't afraid to die or do a bid, man
Fillmore to Harlem, we ballin', you underdig, man
This is real talk and that's what it is, man
While y'all was sleepin' on the kid like a Craftmatic
I was in the streets not thinkin' '
Bout rap, servin' them crack addicts
I got a black gadget
That'll make a nigga disappear quick
You would think I knew black magic
And when it comes to hoes, I don't have to pay
I'm on my Oakland Raiders shit in all black and gray
Yeah, I'm bringin' back the bay
But before I do that, I gotta go OT and bring back the shade
You couldn't see me, playa, on my worst day
And the last time you seen some cake was on your birthday
Y'all old niggas mad 'cause I'm young and I'm paid
You only smoke a dime a day, I'm blowin' tons of that haze
And I'm doin' the same thing that got Pac and Biggie rich
I was born ready to die, on that Biggie shit
Tryna keep up with me, you'll be runnin' for days
And the only bird you got is that one in the cage
Nigga, I'll show you how to cook a O
And that main bitch you keep callin' wifey, I call her a hooker ho
I'm like Rick James, yeah, I'm rich, bitch
So after I'm done with you, yeah, my whole clique hits
Achoo, I got the flu, man, I spit sick
And if I didn't, I still know how to flip bricks
I turn a gram into a million
I'm still grindin' on my block even
Though there's cameras on the building
So cross me how you sent for
I'm in the hood with two big nines on me like the 99 cent store
Nigga, true story, real talk
Sky baller, Juelz Santana, bitch
We young baller ballers, young hustler hustlers
We 'bout them dollars, bitch, we don't fuck with busters, suckers
We got big rings, big thangs, big chains
We hustle hard in the streets and move big 'caine
Cross game, we'll split your wig, man
'Cause we ain't afraid to die or do a bid, man
Fillmore to Harlem, we ballin', you underdig, man
This is real talk and that's what it is, man
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