[Intro: Stack Bundles]

Yeah

Stack Bundles, Desert Storm

I got westside connections too, nigga

Yeah

I got my nigga Game

We Sqaddddd Up

From New York to L.A., nigga

Yeah

[Verse 1: Stack Bundles]

It's [?] [?] [?] smack man back in the flesh (I'm back)

Lowkey in the hood pushin' that piff in a burgundy S.S

I'm grubbin' and it ain't hard to tell

Do the math, I spend two-thousand on paraphernal

So those slippers mean and I don't mean sixteens that hop in a sixteen olive green

If that was over your head here's a steppin' stool

It's the early grad that learn to push wet in school

See me in 'em, I ain't gotta say I'm street

Been more dirt than Kesahwn cleats and I'm still in 'em

It's the gangsta that's all so cute

Wit a fofo long and a [?] [?] suit

It's nothin' for mе to send cars

Nigga my phone clickin', my youngin' down to catch a body for the sim card

And ya'll niggas just runnin' ya jibs

Wе them click clack, get snatch cabbage patch kids, nigga

[The Game Talking]

Geah

Stack Bundles, nigga

Chuck Taylor

Your neighborhood gang banger

Fresh off JFK

L.A.'s king

Cut a cheque or suck a dick

Clue how you put me behind this nigga?

That nigga flow is gangsta, hard body

Yeah

[Verse 2: The Game]

Niggas pray and pray on my downfall, see me rollin' with Clue, wanna send shots through his Range door

But I'ma always be L.A.'s king

Like Gretzky wit a pump the size of Joe Pesci

A year ago I was makin' moves

The closet I ever been to NY was Krush Groove

Now I walk through Manhattan

Pants saggin', engrave my all stars in the pavement

This ain't a diss, it's a statement

Nigga wit a attitude like Nas buyin' jewelry from Jacob

I keep guns in the studio

Dre don't know about the cop killers and the calico

Or the P89 I hid in the booth, run inside this bitch if you think you bulletproof

Leave a bitch nigga by his Jacob

Aftermath, hit makers from Compton to Jamaica, yeah

[Joe Budden Talking]

Blat!

Ok!

Jump off!

Uh

Ohh, Desert Storm

It's, it's, it's that on top music

Two O one (Uh-uh-uh, ohhh)

Nine, seven, three, nine, O eight

Still on that New Jeru bullshit

You know (Top)

Let me talk to the people, man

Ok

[Verse 3: Joe Budden]

Gangstas do real things because gangstas have ta, I should have a real gangsta wack ya (Uh)

Bang and clap ya punk, aim at cha, he should be in the G-Unit vid with all the gangsta actors

Man should slap ya, hey gangsta rapper, I flame it faster, that on top gang you bastard

I'm in slippers and a robe

Cellphone flip and scroll like get him off the globe

So rude to them, batty boys don't know what I do to them

With a west side connect like Cube and them

He'll feel this aluminum and start pissin' through a tube like mmmmm

But the lyin' stops when them sirens pop and them boys'll start to make the strip piping hot

You either hiring cops or you be likin' your cot

Or you be forced to leave Jersey like you Bryan Scott

Nigga

[Outro: Joe Budden]

Fuck outta here, man

Tah

You no longer lowed here

Stack!

Game!

Uh, uh, it's that, uh, geah!

Clue!

What I tell you, man?

Don't call me at fuckin' four in the mornin' think I'm comin' over here to play games

Cause I got a bitch watin' at the crib soon as I get back, man

That's how we do that

Rap shit come first tho the bitches can wait, she'll be in the bed

Fuck I tell you, man, I'm that dude

That boy out there actin' a fool that's him, Joey

Tah