[Intro: 38 Spesh]

It's the motherfucking Trust huh

Yeah, huh, ayo

[Verse 1: 38 Spesh & Ransom]

I go to war in beast mode

Extended clip on a .44 is a cheat code

I get bread and get head from freak hoes

But don't sleep in the bed with 'em, like they my street clothes

[Ransom's part]

Let's reload, you can't be a renegade with a weak soul

You'll die without a reasonable doubt for trying to repeat Hov

[Spesh's part]

He said he wanna rob my line, for some kilos

I'm shooting behind my line, like free throws

[Ransom's part]

What we chose, an elaborate enterprise to incentivize

No genocide, I'm dirty as Puff when he pushed Jen aside

Defend your pride, you see my shine popping off in the night club

Excite thugs, but numbers don't lie, women and men'll lie

You been advised and I don't mince words much I deserve such

Summertime, preparing for winter, getting my furs fluffed, you heard what?

[Spesh's part]

They said cocaine was my first crush

Every time I break a brick, I get a surplus

Trust, been locked since a shorty

Can't be my man running with niggas that's not for me

Huh, before you get popped with this .40

I ask, "Is you dying with the opp like Naughty"

Huh, my life is a top story

I throw a rat from the window of the top story

I don't just grab one brick, I cop forty

If it's five of y'all on one brick, that's a block party

[Ransom's part]

What you got for me? I aim for your soul but I am not Tory

I stop glory, I squeeze, I ain't even freeze when the cops caught me

Let's not bore me, I been a drink champ before the ink stamp

These bullets interrupt when you speaking, I call them shots N.O.R.E

You not Horry, this ain't game six and you're not a big shot

You probably picked locks, sold some weed in your mama's ziplocs

Nigga kick rocks, I'm known for sparring

Pay in full or bury your bones in Harlem

They don't feed us, nigga we 'posed to part 'em

[Verse 2: Che Noir & Ransom]

Smoke the stardom, a fast thinker just made me slow to karma

I paint a canvas with weapons, it's like a poem for artists

Erase niggas when it's lead at ya

Bloodshed after done turned funerals to a Met Gala

Request rappers for torture, I leave you tied and crooked

The taste of blood on my fingers, that's when it's time to cook it

Right when you starving for death, that's when I'm hyped to pull it

Russian roulette I serve to these rappers, told em, "Bite the bullet"

[Ransom's part]

Queen, they barely gon' tow the line but I like to push it

Scarred face, ghetto boys stacking bills bout the height of Bushwick

You was never man enough

Them tales of your prison stints and the grams you cut

Ever seen a dope fiend die while he standing up?

You scamming us

There's no back and forth in front of the cameras

You question me, it'll be the look in my eye that'll answer ya

Tarantula, got eight arms on me, no long story

That's for amateurs, I got a small army if y'all harm me

[Che's part]

I talk Godly, was a kid, played on porches with small Barbies

Surrounded by shooters that's resembling Bob Marley

You ever seen a fiend die while watching from your porch

But they ain't know he was dead so they still was talking to his corpse?

I wrote classics, spoke with passion with no practice

The poems I'm rapping be the reason I'm gold status

Sold tactics cut from a cloth that's too old fashioned

With body language you can't understand with a closed caption