Released on February 22, 2000

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Yo, yo, yo ..

Chorus: [Diamond D]

We got the foundation, time to lock shit

Ladies look no more we got this

D.I.T.C. spits the hot shit

And while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' Cris

Ain't no stoppin' this like, pot and ses

See it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit

On the set niggas start to cockblock and shit

Hating when we come through your metropolis


[Dimaond D]

I like the finer things in life, rings and bikes

Expensive whips, first-class trips

Seven days cruises, honey don't trip

SL class if ya heard from fit

Platinum cards, with no credit limit

Tiffany lamps, certified authentic

H-class minerals with no floors in it

Be one two, with the windows all tinted

And I'll be all in it, Tommy Hill said it

Everything is paid for, mami not rented

Two albums deep, it's all documented

Y'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute

Look, G-O-L-D in a minute

'Bout to double that, and the Benz bubble black, hater!

It's diamonte on ya set

Throwin' all G's and charge a jet


[ O.C. ]

I'm doin' time in the rap game

Sorta like a bid up North, both one and the same

My slang keep comin' steady numbin ya brain

Like substance abuse, some lines are cocaine

I get ya open, my stuff be potent'

Two pulls a pass for three niggas smoking

It's no joking when it comes to this

On occasion I might pop a bottle of Cris'

With a wrist full of ice on the bracelet

Trade rhymes in for cash, money I stash

For the future, treat more wis' than Peter Luger

For lyrical fitness I train with Luke Duva

Incorporate lyrical bust with, fist to cuss with, style worth a million bucks

For this I got love, not lust

If I lay her down with no fear then I means I wanna fuck!


[ Hook ]


[A.G.]

My flow, be sicker than yours

Hoes, bounce gimme some mo'

Wanna rap with me? Then gimme some dough

Want a track from me? Then gimme some dough

I sport those type of clothes that excite the hoes

That's why ice the roll and light the dro'

Love is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours

Diamond beats hittin' harder than Tyson blows

I might explode, once I grab the mic and blow

Claim you don't like the flow, will wanna bite the flow

Pop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' Bugsy

Get Dirty like rugby, it could get ugly

I rock mines and cop top of the line cars

Then charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars

Slide the dike men, cop about nine jars

To trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars


[Lord Finesse]

Niggas is finito, when me and my peeps blow

Name at the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho

We straight, better see yaselfves

We seein' more chips than the qibla else

On a club night we chillin', watching the thugs fight

Iced out, nigga shining like floodlights

Rolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights

Throwing it up, while you sipping on Bud-Light

Steady balling, why you stop the thing

Blind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink

On some slick shit, dress-up, dipshit

Floss with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with

Don't sleep, me and my crew's deep

Whether in the air, on four wheels or two feet

Salute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst

Fuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first


[ Hook ]