[Verse 1: Illmaculate]
The deadliest of the seven sins
Is envy when they wish success for them instead of him
I remember when my crew members let me in
I told them "any beef is whatever, go ahead and send me in"
Fuck it, you ain't gotta say the words
Down to fly off the handle and probably make it worse
But they happen to feel me, so
They knew what they was doing, they drafted a killer, though
That's why it's hands off every time
All bets off, I'm spitting like I ain't never signed
Getting mine through petty crime or selling rhymes
Whatever pays, I never play with bread on line
Person A complains they ain't even spend a dime
Person B spending everything instead of time
When love's fickle, reciprocate with a separate kind
Keep business straight and personal feelings kept aside
I know I'm preaching to the choir, I know
I know the reason I'm inspired is my folks
We off that drink and off that fire I smoke
Feel my ceilings getting higher as time goes, I grow
You had your time when you started buzzin'
The rise and fall, the fans mature, and the artist doesn't
But that's the part when karma comes in
You don't feel that?
It's probably hard to put your heart in something
[Hook: Epp]
Stay scheming
You know we getting close to dough
Talk shit, bitch ass, while you're looking at me
You dreaming
You know you wanna own it all
Talk slick and my team will start clapping at you
[Verse 2: OnlyOne]
Boom boom clack, boom, boom, clack
Instead of saying "Fuck the police" we shoot back
Coast Guard choppers in the air again
We all cargo heroin, they call it narcoterrorism
Send Americans to the Middle East to rule it
They play machine gun music: we produced it
When they crash a plane into a building, you think it's ruthless?
I'm just being truthful, we gave them the means to do it
Some things is way too deep, I just can't seem to let them go
Even the Feds could pull some shit like that, you never know
They paper-shred secrets cause they're slave masters
That's why everything I ever did was federal
I cock the four-pound back in my ride
Playing Pac-Man, the soundtrack to my life
Call me Pac-Man, puffing on that Pakistan
Fill a rubber trash can with a 20-pack, man
Fuck the money and the power
Take the chainsaw to you like Angel and cut you in the shower
Bunch of blood money in the money counter
Paper planes, we blowing up like a couple towers
[Verse 3: Epp]
That's something for you quarter-after-seven
I rap as if I never plan to see the gates of heaven
Well, before I die, I hope you feel me, though
Look up at the sky and holla if you hear me, though
I'm "Kobe" great, facilitate all my latest rhymes
My nigga Bud got two bodies on him, then he do the time
If you talk about it, then be about it, nigga
Live our last days cause we can't take it with us
Ill, load the bong... Only, roll the swisher
It's getting ugly for you motherfuckers
Act sweet, leave your body leaking, strawberry smucker's
Look around you... didn't nobody touch ya
That's bread and butter talk
Get a white girl, nice box, booty butter soft
Like the leather in a '84 Cutlass
Supreme team, add a couple thousand to the budget
Motherfucker