DL, Triple Beam, Farmer's Boulevard, Q -Borough, Boss Man, I think it's done forced my hand.

Yo, check it, nigga, I need your hate.

It motivates us to see, players are love to hustle.

It feeds the hunger and greed, ice dripping off the sleeve.

Breezy's on they knees, and the drought, I'm still banging 17.

I've been in that crack house in Elizabeth City.

I've been in that brand new wide body looking pretty.

I've been in that pen, waiting for dudes to come and get me.

I've been in disbelief, how y 'all think you're fucking with me?

I told y 'all, niggas, I'm the truth.

Not a rapper, just rapping to rhyme.

I'm certified with these hustler's guidelines.

I shoot videos on 35, when they all cut on the set.

I'm that boss, the who cuts the checks.

I press flex at the car show, not to intimidate, but to see the face.

The king of paper chase.

The hustler who was able to flourish.

Into the biggest giant in NY, since Plexiglas Burris.

It take more than courage, it take heart and soul.

It take the balls to pull the trigger on that calico.

Don't know nothing about G4s or 5s, but this G23 will fly if y 'all get out of line.

Roll up your hands if you a boss in your city.

Yo, I don't succumb to pressure, I apply it.

Mount a rich hustler's amortized to your diet.

I've been in this game for years.

It's old money here, and it's a jungle out there.

So my niggas, we take the lion's share.

Respect them full circle, in and out the hood.

Ghetto fabstic stretch navigators, out the foxwoods.

I drop Gs on crap tables, while y 'all rap fables.

Fictitious accountants, on how y 'all niggas ball out.

The underworld can't deny, how I left my mark.

Floss or Hoff, the Joneses, keep up with the clocks.

Since a youngin, I've been knee deep in it.

Before Jay got shot, he was captain.

I was lieutenant, he passed the torch.

I kept it lit, I ran with it.

Recruited more soldiers, about they money clips and rubber grips.

We got hood rich, it's duly noted.

So stop asking me tricks.

GL stands for the Wayne Stone.

Roll up your hands, if you a boss in your city.

Still y 'all talk about a hot sixteen bars.

Guess I had about a hot sixteen cars.

See the range, see that five.

Don't front CDL, with all of this shit you want.

I got the studded chains, the frosted bracelets.

Big face, alligator straps, flooded encasements.

At the club, I'm corking champagne.

Five hundred dollars of pops, but I'm enough.

Reach all zeros when we cop.

Off the showroom, I leave you no room to floss.

So I raise the price and pay the ghost of E .F .O.

Roll up your hands, if you a boss in your city.