Get outta line and I'm a give ya the blues
I'm out, I'm out here to grind mo', rapped up in the paper chase
Don't make me have to relapse on these hoes
Gotta see my feet dude, you do shit a fiend do
Welcome to New York City, it's ya boy Young Hov' chea
Young'n never pump fake, and you'll get past the blitz
I'm callin' guts every time, drag my nuts every time
I wanna fuck a fine hoe and candy paint the 88
Ya block warm, then I come by with the fizzle
It's a new game doin', lemme give ya the rules
Face it y'all, y'all niggaz playin' basic ball
Guess who's bizack?
Don't make me relapse
Plain clothes wanna run in my room
Shit I used to hug a corner like a old deuce and a quarter
Kanye West on the track, Chi-Town, what's goin' on now?
Take it back down to taxin' them roads
Still fuckin' with them crack addicts
Don't make me relapse
Tryna make me forty thousand and move
It's a new game doin', lemme give ya the rules
Started with an eight ball, gotta get this cake dawg
We go to war and you ain't makin' a dime
Just gimme a minute of ya time baby, I don't want much
You can make ya chips swell up, ya don't hafta pitch
Guess who's bizack?
Straight from the oven wit' it, came from the dirt
Back to the block with the fo'
Back to the block with the fo'
Mack Mittens and Hov'
Me and the Face Mob, every time we face-off
Guess who's bizack? You still smellin' crack in my clothes
That's why the, streets embrace me dawg, I'm so cool
Play them corners like a safety, watch the traffic switch
And keep ya whole hood on flip like on box-spring
You can smell it once the plastic rips
Motels, star-studded, rock stars and goons
Back on the block with the old Face Mob
That's right, these niggaz can't fuck with me
Okay, now we workin' wit' it
Turn a whole one from a half a brick, look I mastered this
When I was huggin' it, niggaz couldn't do nuttin' wit' it
And guess who's, guess who's bizack? It's ya boy Face Mob
'Cause I got, shit to lose a nigga out here payin' his dues
Get outta line and I'm a give ya the blues
And make fa' sho' I get to work mines, for part of the time
Here take these five stones and bring a nigga back a hundred
The boy B Mizack, A.K.A, Mr. Crack-A-Brick
Back on the block with the old Face Mob
We'll get right into the proceedings this evening
My baby walkin' gotta get him some shoes
Still with me
Can I talk to y'all for a minute? Lemme talk to y'all for a minute
Mack Mittens and Hov'
Lemme talk, lemme talk, lemme talk to these muh'fuckas
From the womb to the tomb a hot pot of joy and a spoon
Till like deuce in the mornin', with the old heads
Still bustin' with that black-matic
Homey, I'm in the drop with the AC on
Slangin' loose quarters, this Philly cat back gatted
Strictly glassy shit I hug the block like a quart of water
Headphones are distortin', bring it down a lil' bit
Pain plus work shit she made me milk this game for all it's worth
Give niggaz a break, nah, you know how the game go
You can blame my old earth, for the shit she instilled in me
Don't got no wholesale, 'cause that ain't how I wanna run it
Fuck you think I slang fo', to go against the grain
I'm on the block like I'm eight feet tall
Money is an issue and that's on the fa' shizzle my nizzle
'Cause this street shit is all I know
Lemme talk to these muh'fuckas, lemme talk to these muh'fuckas
Homey, we make a great combination don't we?
Guess who's bizack?
Pissy Mack and shit, low old box of things
I emerged from it all without a stain on my shirt
The boy Face on the baseline, Face Mob
A hot plate will make ya swell up if ya gasket clicked
The fire get too hot in the kitchen, I hit the streets fool
