The Victory 2007

[Intro] If I made a title that offend the whole industry Would y'all say my title in your interviews? If I came out dissin everyone of y'all Would I sell as much records as these other dudes? If I said I was retirin but never left Would y'all show me love when I come back? If I ran the streets for the past two years Would you respect me or would you say fuck Pap!!! [Verse 1] Yo where my thugs at? cock your guns back My headphones ain't loud, yo turn up the track Ok bump that, homey I run rap I add on to the game you niggas subtract Yo where my Bloods at? throw it up brrappp!!!!!! Yo where my Cuz at? he cut you cut 'em back! They say they tough cats, but they some rugrats I drop 'em off on the block and make 'em pump packs Owe me couple stacks, he tried to duck Pap I sent a shot at his ass and told him duck that [Hook] Aiyyo bump that, bump this, stay high, what's this? He broke, he rich, homey we run this It's a new era your heart pumpin in fear Two thousand and seven the god number is here Bump that, bump this, stay high, what's this? He broke, he rich, homey we run this It's a new era your heart pumpin in fear Two thousand and seven the god number is here [Verse 2] The stronger I become, the more y'all weaken So when im in full power you 'gon be a weaklin If my heart still beatin and my lungs still breathin My brains still thinkin ain't none of y'all eatin Over my dead body and my blood still bleedin I'm a, rap rebel, clap with black medal Look into my eyes realize what Pap symbol Lies the wiseguy pride is that visual Nah I don't slap high five with you outside guys That's not my vibe, your just not my size, I cocked my nine Cats got nine lives, get shot five times I cock pistols Back and clap missles, black it's that simple [Hook] Bump that, bump this, stay high, what's this? He broke, he rich, homey we run this It's a new era your heart pumpin in fear Two thousand and seven the god number is here Bump that, bump this, stay high, what's this? He broke, he rich, homey we run this It's a new era your heart pumpin in fear Two thousand and seven the god number is here [Verse 3]: Hate when the cops keep printin me, each of them bums Bendin up my index finger and squeezin my thumb Im lookin at 'em hopin he'll get it done Them new finger printin machines in the precinct is dumb Through the speakers I come, with the weed in my lungs You ever ran into your enemy deep in the slums? They schemin on you and you schemin on them Then you realize nigga who you be with is one Hell of a big pussy why you beefin with son? He keep tappin you tellin you they reach for a gun But he lyin he just lookin for a reason to run Ever catch you on the block like you slingin some chums I beat you like them African boys be beatin them drums Why would I start eatin with them and they starvin? Might as well say I'm feedin these bums I don't like them niggas I be talkin greasy to them They say Pap a slick talker that boy got grease on his tounge I'm the real beast from the east, I'm not done The most official spittin, the swift musician that's if you listen It's a simple mission if his crew missin that's his decision Cause my intuition and inner vision is benefitin All my men and women who doin bids in the mental prison But if you wishin to get the grippin and since you trippin We gone blast till it's the endin clash with quick collision Cut your from ear to ear give incisions Eat your food like it's nutrition Fuck up your wig like sick morticians I can give you wisdom cause it's tradition But if you dissin I can switch positions Put missiles in him with quick precision I don't care if it's linin or if it's denim, I get the lemon Squeeze, hit em my enemies rip up put venom in 'em Lighly to hit the izzum After I send you spinnin, find me back in the restaraunt readin the menu grinnin