Released on September 16, 2003

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[Intro]

Victor, a stranger to see you

Who that? Who that, who that?


[Verse: Viktor Vaughn]

If I'm not workin' or puttin' work in

I'm either wheelin' and dealin', or probably jerkin my—

Listenin' to nuttin', takin' no suggestions

Or destructive criticisms, that can't improve on perfection

Rock a crowd in sections on a good night, the ho's fight

Always get the dough first then everything else goes right

At least that's what they say and who the fuck is they?

Make a hick say, "What the hey?" brought that chick from sick bay

Ensign, he shoulda asked his upperclassmen

Before he bust blast 'em, never trust no Cardassians

Captain's log supplemental

The Klingons are now aboard the Enterprise rental vessel

On my cue, photon torpedo

Oh and if I'm not on the block with Jorgito

And so on for the street though, smoke a pound of leek though

I'm jokin' on the fact that hip-hop has gone freakshow

Don't let the drama get you

In the only genre of music where the fans shoot the messenger

Bitch niggas talk behind your back like a catcher

Either M-Y-O-B or B-Y-O-stretcher

In that order: man, woman, son, daughter

The beat sound like he's underwater, make it fun to slaughter

Even if you hear some wack shit you never give a chance

Some shit sound like all you could do off it is river-dance

It's not a hobby, don't be sloppy

Doin' deals with these labels is likened to a botched robbery

Nobody supposed to get bodied, golly!

This shit is like a folly 'bout to cold flip, probably

It's not me, he got a ill spills knot in Brooknam

Where even though kids kill they still chill and look calm

While workin' on new developments for the book bomb

In one bad experiment, it blew and took a hooker arm ("Arm and leg")

BOW! Look mom, no hand

Studied black magic for years out in no man's land

It's like a barbecue, all-swine cookout

To fuck up their plans like a blind man lookout

Cram to overstand it, peep it and absorb it

The same way he keep all the planets in their proper orbit

Norbit, y'all better off goin' corporate

Nobody wanna hear that bullshit it's too morbid

There's no prints, he hold the mic with a mic glove

And rolls dolo from state to state like Ike Love

Like on top of the world loose and keep it gully

Rap creeps seem they got too much juice in their belly

It's why they brung V he still hungry

And spit something thick on the mic like a lungy

Mind your daughter, she on line for the water

To get lucky like when she find a quarter kinda sorta

Remember me god, clean timbs with emery board?

He only came to save the game like a memory card

Ooh shrewd, a lot of crews is too rude

And it's way too many "let's not' and "say we do" dudes

He said 24/7 I be on call

He use his vacation days to watch Babylon fall

Numbskulls get to steppin', they dumb dull

And how he rep the mic is like the weapon from Krull

Cats be like, "What's wrong with your man black?"

Bio-hazard suit and Van Grack for the anthrax

Jeez and can't get no peace

Form blazin' sword for the police robeast

Cochise, write a rhyme like a book report

And sell it to a rookie, you could tell by the hook he bought

You ain't know he sell hooks and choruses?

They couldn't bang the slang if they looked in thesauruses

It's like a friendly game of dodge ball

Oddball god y'all, who played the garage wall

With the Stan Smith's checkerboard lace

And the brand new INF, they ain't check the broad waist

You saw his face? So who next to get they neck chopped

Or popped like a Beck's top, respect the drop

It's too much wreck hops, who next to get their neck chopped

Or popped like a Beck's top? Respect the drop

Woopdie-do, flow do fifty like a hooptie do

Groupie crews try to figure out from what coop he flew

They out of place, beats sounds like outer space

With no time to waste he was Audi without a trace


[Outro: Buckshot and Spider-Man samples]

All my jewels cost an arm and leg

All my jewels cost an arm and leg