[Intro]

My Guy Mars

[Verse 1: T.I.]

Hey, they say ignorance is bliss, huh? I guess niggas is so blissful

Do anything for dollars, the thought of havin' a fistful

Make ‘em switch sides when it lookin' grim and dismal

A coward dies a thousand deaths, no pistol

See fuck niggas do fuck shit ‘cause they got fucked up intentions to

Nigga got no principles, better watch who you listen to

I see it in your eyes, you weak, the lies you speak

And shit you do right now, where I'm from, you die in the streets

‘Cause, boy, that ho shit

I'm in the game, I ain't worried what the coach said

And, boy, you lame, better watch how you approach that

All in your feelings, showin' all of your emotions

I'ma be at your neck, about that ho shit

All the drama, I love it, gеt an erection for it

Like go to Vеgas, fight police, not get arrested for it

The smoke, I'm runnin' to it, trouble wouldn't dare avoid

And, hell, they blow it in your direction, you better be ready for it

Righteous, humble, arrogant, oxymoron, anomaly

Egotistical activist, master solution strategist

Full-time family man, part-time politic

Trap nigga, fashion icon, I'm all of it

Don't crucify the messenger

'Cause the message real, you need to hear it

Absorb it, let it sizzle in your spirit

To all these niggas goin' out sad, actin' all weird

You embarrassin' yourself, lookie here, nigga

[Chorus: Kes Kross]

Oh no, niggas don't respect the code (Respect the code)

Oh no, act like bitches, niggas act like hoes (They disrespect the code)

Catch insomnia, boy, don't you sleep (Keep your eyes open)

Keep your eyes open (Your eyes) your eyes open

[Interlude: Rick Ross & Kes Kross]

I wish I really knew how to sing for you, baby (You're just a spectacle)

But since I can't, I'ma count this paper in front of you and

Shower you with these gifts and (M-M-M-M, they don't respect the code)

I'ma tell you the best shit that come to my mind and (Maybach Music)

I want you to feel like I love you, baby

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]

Abu Dhabi, the penthouse slugs not for the amateurs

Calamari from California came with cannabis

Fill arenas that put the team up on the banisters

Pinkie rings and the other things that seen the gamblers

Count your acres, build your estates, we call it farm life

Talkin' heavy, your chains sound hollow when your charm light

Pistol poppin', you whip look polished and your broad's nice

Kemosabe, hundred kilos just on a calm night

Glad to see me, bowl of zucchini, call it mob life

Drop the top and call the models, yes, all the tall type

Belaire bottles back in Beverly Hills, we balled out

Biggest boss, I'm poppin' dollars, fuck what you talkin' ‘bout

Hundred racks and no Cadillacs, now pull your cars out

See you fell in and feed the felons, so they think you jealous

Say you love him and write him letters, but you never mail him

Fax, I'm at the top because I'm chargin' tax, ask

[Chorus: Kes Kross & Rick Ross]

Oh no, niggas don't respect the code (Respect the code)

Renzel, a.k.a Willy

Oh no, act like bitches, niggas act like hoes (They disrespect the code)

The big fish, tell ‘em, uh

Catch insomnia, boy, don't you sleep (Keep your eyes open)

Keep your open (Your eyes) your eyes open

[Outro: Kes Kross]

You're just a spectacle, you don't respect the code