[Verse 1: Common]

This is street radio, for unsung hero

Riding in they regal, trying to stay legal

My daughter found Nemo, I found the new Preemo

'Ye, you know how we do, we do it for the people

And the struggle of the brothas and the folks

With lovers under dope, experiment to discover hopes

Scuffle for notes, the rougher I wrote, times was harder

Went from rocky starter to a voice of a martyr

Why white folk focus on dogs and yoga?

While people on the low end tryna ball and get over

Lyrics are like liquor for the fallen soldiers

From the bounce to the ounce, it's all our culture

Everyday we hustlin', tryna get them custom rims

Law, we ain't trusting them, thick broads, we lust in them

Sick and tired of punching it, I look on the bus at them

When I see 'em struggling, I think how I'm touching them

The people

[Chorus: Pusha T]

Twenty-two niggas, two to a car

Eleven flagships with the three-point star

The only other ballers is them three-point stars

We only 5'9", they think we point guards

Twenty-two niggas, two to a car

Eleven flagships with the three-point star

The only other ballers is them three-point stars

We only 5'9", they think we point guards, ha!

[Verse 2: Kanye West]

Your fly is open, McFly

The crowd is open, I think I know why

I'm back from the future, seen it with my own eyes

And, yep! I'm still the future of the Chi

Back in college, I had to get my back up off the futon

I knew that I couldn't cop a coupe with no coupons

Look at that Neutron on his green like croutons

People asking him, "Do you have any Grey Poupon?" (Yeah!)

With niggas masked up like Phantom of the Opera

Dreaming of the day they push a phantom to the operas

Can't wait 'til they say, "'Ye ran up at the Oscars"

"Papa, I heard his life is like a movie"

Like when Em played him and Mekhi played a rasta

Mexicans gon' love it like it was for La Raza

But this is for the mobsters, holla

We some true Chi-town legends; accept no imposters

[Chorus: Pusha T]

Twenty-two niggas, two to a car

Eleven flagships with the three-point star

The only other ballers is them three-point stars

We only 5'9", they think we point guards

Twenty-two niggas, two to a car

Eleven flagships with the three-point star

The only other ballers is them three-point stars

We only 5'9", they think we point guards, ha!

[Verse 3: Pharrell Williams & Kanye West]

Four in the morning you hear the nines blowin'

Armor all on they cars to keep the shine goin'

For the ready-rock they smoke that shit on cans

I was rockin' flattops and rockin' slip-on Vans

Screamin' "Killa dude!", and rolling my pants up

As the ghetto bitches mixed the neighbourhood dances up

But this wasn't a soft place

Friendship villages threw the smile off ya face

So I, started pacin' to exit my situation

Then I became the basis of Steve Stoute's translation

Sure I'm on that brother shit, but I started thinking colorless

Like my favorite watch, but I had to get the other wrist

I'm trainin' em young, they were schoolin' 'em mane

Fifteen killin' niggas, face cool as a fan

Told them "The right bullet hole will free one's soul (Uh)

Let you control the block and get a ve-hicle

[Verse 4: Kanye West]

I know you're- I know you thinking, thinking that it must be

Armor-All flow 'cause it never get rusty

I ain't gotta say it, man, dog, trust me

Bust somebody head, GLC, where was we?

Still rock the Prada—'fore that, rock the Starter

Niggas had the Georgetown, the Magic way harder

Thinking back to the projects, and they way they tore 'em all up

Like when I do a project, and come back and tear the mall up

[Chorus: Pusha T]

Twenty-two niggas, two to a car

Eleven flagships with the three-point star

The only other ballers is them three-point stars

We only 5'9", they think we point guards

Twenty-two niggas, two to a car

Eleven flagships with the three-point star

The only other ballers is them three-point stars

We only 5'9", they think we point guards, ha!

[Verse 5: Lupe Fiasco]

There's an arms race, like I'm runnin' on my hands

A dance marathon on my napalms, and

Drop mine's first so that they bombs can't

And Glocks, lasers, missiles, beat rocks, paper, scissors

I built mine's big, better build yours bigger

Built mine's quick so I could kill yours quicker

The number one supplier, the world's largest equipper

The second smallest dier, best non-coexister

I pledge allegiance to gasoline and bulletproof limousines

And leans on the property of the poor

And every night, I pray to the Lords Of War

Every man and MAC-11

That all good child rebel soldiers go to AK-47 heaven

And a landmine in every playground that they step in

And YouTube the footage from the cameras on the tips

Of our bullets, and record like former Darfur (Push it)

[Chorus: Pusha T]

Twenty-two niggas, two to a car

Eleven flagships with the three-point star

The only other ballers is them three-point stars

We only 5'9", they think we point guards

Twenty-two niggas, two to a car

Eleven flagships with the three-point star

The only other ballers is them three-point stars

We only 5'9", they think we point guards, ha!