[Intro: The Game]

Yeah! Maybach Music! Family we livin'

[Verse One: The Game]

Who stack cheddar better than the rat killer?

That nigga that bust gats quicker, and he throw back liquor

The mafia way, toast it up like Sopranos

And when it's snowin, I push it like pianos

Back in the Lambo like I was born with it

Makavelli prophecy shoot up the car I'm goin' with it

From the cradle to the grave on these twenty two's

Before I take my last breath I let the semi loose

If there's heaven for a nigga with a crucifix

So much ice in it, mix the O and Gin and Goose with this

B-O- double S that's my nigga Ross!

And I'm his Cali connect, cause I can get it 'cross

Used to put ducks in the bathroom watch that bitch float

Couple years past now it's keys on the big boat

Take a shortcut 'round the Pacific

Throw the AK in Atlantic that's mafia livin'

[Verse Two: Ja Rule]

Guess who's bizzack?

Yeah nigga, you guess who shot ya, I spit murder, the music is mafia

The swag's incomparable, but that says comparisons impossible, like dope that don't move

And I drip off the spoon, infectious to hoods

And one cold afternoon, you get shot at your home

Now I smell pussy, pussy got lips

But it don't talk to me, that's why you my bitch

And you on my dick (ah-ha!)

'Cause I fucked ya up once, fucked ya up twice

And you still talkin shit ('Preme nigga!)

What must I do to get through to you?

Curly, get off my dick, 'fore that ch-ch-ch-chi-chopper

Get ta pah-pah-pah-pah-poppin off of niggas that been mouthin' off

Read in between the lines when you hear me talk

Go and get out of line, this is Rule York

[Verse Three: Fat Joe]

Thug nigga 'till I die, and I ain't even try

See the murder in my eyes, nigga fuck the other side

I don't give a fuck! I will burn your jheri curls

Yayo is his bottom bitch, Banks is a girlie-girl

Don't worry 'bout Whoo Kid, Macho smacked his face in

Lighty threw the towel and begged Pistol not to drape him

I meant (?), don't let me catch Nelson

I done spoke to God, man, He can't even help him, help him

Big up to Maybach Music

Got them choppers man, don't make us use it

Hits out the park, they call me Big Papi

Even if you shot me, you still couldn't stop me

Still went to Africa, still wore the big chain

Where you got robbed at? Nigga, on the same stage

I say the shit that you can't say

Cause I am not a snitch, I ain't bitch-made

[Verse Four: Rick Ross]

David beat Goliath

The meek will inherit the earth

Deeper

Triple black Benz, Lord, forgive me for my sins

I put hits on all you niggas, includin' some old friends

Money come and go, but the trill will remain

Bitch, I keep it real like I'm still dealin' 'caine

Realest shit I wrote and I put this on this quote

Before I had a flow, I had a kilogram of coke

Money on the flo', twenty homies on the books

Fat mob boss but I'm runnin wit the crooks

No need for a vest, that'll suffocate the flesh

I'm Martin on the balcony anticipatin' death (death)

Let the rifles sing, cause "I have a dream"

My Coretta Scott-King in the tub full of cream

Pink champange seem to take away the pain

While the blue hollow points penetratin' all the lames (lames)

Money ain't a thang, bitch, that's a lie

It only controls every bitch that's alive

Money manifests, haters gotta die (die)

Tia never told you that that motherfucker rides

Niggas takin sides, crack smoking wives

Cracking crabs at the tables, count the cash, crack the wine

Snakes gotta feel it, beef never squashed (never)

This time I'm embark on my Million Man March

I'm unorthodox, name me the victor

In the suite wit Shaniqua and that brain off the Richter

Marquise knocks, Marquise stop

Then I give him 50 Cent, that's Marquise' pops

I put a milli on it, this pussy don't want it

Show up in his hood wit the wolves by the mornin' (bang)

Nigga, this a gift, maybe you could live

My music is the mob, it is what it is

Strapped to a T, as real as it gets

Only boss getting money with the Bloods and the Crips

Amen

[Outro: Rick Ross]

Deeper than motherfuckin' Rap, nigga

Once you crossed that line

It ain't 'bout, North or South

It's about money and power, riders and punks

We know how the story goes nigga, contract killers

It's not a threat, it's a promise

Money long as 183rd Street, nigga aka Miami Gardens

You could make that list too, nigga

Amen

The Lord is my light and salvation, who shall I fear?

The Lord is the strength of my life, of whom shall I be afraid?

My evil and foes come upon me to eat up my flesh, they shall stumble and fall

Though a host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear

Though war should rise, in this I shall be confident

It's deeper than rap, nigga