Chorus 2X:

Nigga I don't got no feelings

What the fuck you think this is

I got no reason to live

So make your mind up what you want to do

I make your family be missing you



Yo dusting you off like dirty fingerprints on evidence

Battling me you dead like presidents

I'm fresh like prince jazzy like jeff

The man just like Meth crazy like Lep

Plus jams just like Def

With a pin I'm a king like Kurupt

When I throw a style, you better duck

And if you don't your ass is out of luck

Don't fuck with the master if I have to

Then I blast you, then go to Church and see my pastor

Why you have to be like this, me and the mic's tight

Like lettuce, lighting the pimps

This year my son turned six

If your style's wack then you need to get that shit fixed

Brothers hittin Jersey, my raps hitting harder than bricks



I'm iller, willer than your local drug dealer

Come to my villa, meet the 9-milla

Letting off, where I stop you getting off

Make you feel it just like Latifah's kiss in Set It Off

You want war come on, put on the boxing gloves

People call me an artist on the canvas cuz I draw blood

That's what's up with the shit I maneuver

Hit the losers with a Lueger then lay up in Aruba

I'm gonna be rappin till you muthafuckaz

get sick of me on the M-I-C

I'm sicker than ten niggaz with HIV

Tracey, pack the chico, the freak though

Holding heats and we're in wall street

With Sloppy Joe, you feel me yo?



Chorus:



Uh what check it, my name is Steven

I eat MC's for no apparent reason

Better you if you skeezin, I'm pleasing

Those who dare, I advise you not to stare

You be ass out like a flat tire without a spare

I declare war before I have to even a score

You got me hot like sand on the shore

I'm running the floor like a ballerina

I go back like Flavor Flav and comb Adina

I get honeys to make you say "You seen her?"



I'm pregnant but only in my mind

Hopin my baby rhyme grows to be a triple platinum album

A felon, using the steel to do crimes

Smoke so many niggaz they put up no smoking signs

Charismatic, gasmatic, ballin like Madden

Cream automatic, attractive like a magnet

Speeding like car racing, cream like carnation

Burn out my Playstation while cats be scarfacing

Hey old lady sorry's all I can say

My bills got me looking in pocket books in a different way

Foxy in the boulevard Benzo

I'm in the back of Kurupt's flex truck playin 64 Nintendo



Kurupt:

Gettin pealed, skills and it feels

Raw doggs, raw deals, niggaz either ill, fake, or real

Penetrates, own the 10's and 38's

Ridahs and niggaz turn the states and flippin crates

Get lift like weights, bust and radiates

Spreading infection, murderous mafia connections

I want it felt, touch life's villains

Start drilling, start ampin out

Hitting them with autos campin out

With autos innovative, calculative, creative

Touch a nigga, hectic, with a couple of seconds to bust nigga

From a distance, I could peep a fuck up

You want to have but nuttin but cash to get stuck up

Man I'm diamonds, yo, God is nice

Hot, never seen cats with so much ice

I got blocks to get all that's got behind the scenes

Sellin glocks, tech 9's, 16's and magazines