(feat. Paul Cain)

[Intro - Fabolous]

Uh, you think I give a fuck about what these niggas say man

They even talked about Jesus



[Fabolous]

I ain't mad at when it rain, cause I know the sun is somewhere shinin

Sorta like some clear diamonds

I hardly see my moms, but she know her son is somewhere grindin

Some where rhymin, or somewhere climbing

Out of a pottable 760, inclasable very sticky

Wit a handgun, to send these cowards to Heaven quickly

I ain't pussy, so I won't allow you to ever dick me

I know these greaseballs, wonder how could they ever stick me

But I move, like the President through town

Wit stones the size of earrings, in my Presidential crown

I put hollows from the Desert into clowns, cause the cemetary

Is where most of the dudes, that are hesitant are found

So I take the time, of whatever the bench throw

The 4BM put down, in a seventy-two inch hole

Mean while getting adapted, to the fame has be hectic

But I'm fucking like I'm tryna take down Chamberlain's record

And the girls more than like you, when you running run

Doing world tours like Michael, but girl's sure don't like you

You going on like thirty-six, flowin on some berry mix

The little money you get, you blowing on them dirty chicks

Tryna look young, so you throwing on the jersey quick

I'm on my second V-12, you going on ya thirty-six

You can look at this rider, and see I'm on the come-up

Cause I pass the hitch-hikers, like I don't see 'em with they thumb up

I just turn the system up and keep boppin

I never get, where I'm tryna go, if a nigga keep stoppin

And I tell the cops, this joint is for protection

Don't they see when I come through, how these people point in my direction-a