Project Steps

[Intro] Old habit die hard huh Disrespect will not be disregarded partna You cross dat line I'm goin' off bout mine Man woman and child, no exception home boy no disrespect will be tolerated come hell or high water You understand that? Ya bitch! Bankroll Mafia, Hustle Gang ova everythang nigga [Verse 1: T.I.] I got fake bitches on my timeline Sucka niggas in my rearview Wonder why I'm even wasting my time Even replying to letcha know I don't feel you Fuck 'em! Dodging nothin' but a Fed case Betta know it, tired of holdin' on to dead weight Goin' let it go And ain't no turnin' round lookin' back I Swear to God I'ma drop a gem like cookin' crack And sell it hard I'ma, Bankhead nigga to the heart Tote tools on the boulevard Its young niggas in a stolen car With expensive ambition and exquisite pistols we showin’ off Caught that line and we goin’ off In Lenox mall give a damn, who you goin’ call? You violatin, we ain’t lettin’ nothin’ go at all We demonstrate and leave your brains on the fuckin' wall Puss, you disrespectful nigga, got that I ain’t neva been shot at, and I ain't shot back Bossed up in a cool whip with a hot gat And still got stacks from back from “What You Know About That?” (Hook) I’m just a project nigga on the front steps And gettin’ money is the concept By any means, and the belt where the gun kept I let that whole clip ride, till ain’t one left in it Try me, I'ma handle my business, handle my business Try me, I'ma handle my business Try me I'ma handle my business, try me [Verse 2: T.I.] I got fake bitches in my timeline Hatin' niggas in my rearview I got naked bitches in the high rise On the balcony so they could get a clear view Of the city with my dick up in it But in the morning won’t remember which bitch is it, shit Ay I’m too rich for this shit but I’m too real to be tried nigga Going against me just like goin’ against God And I ain’t gotta make excuses I don't fuck whoever, whatchu wanna do about it Thought not, fuck around get crossed out You caught slippin' roll down on your ass, .45 start spittin' Goin' be a long day nigga I start trippin' Don’t be stickin' to the script, drive-by audition, wassup Whatchu do for dough, guess you do it too slow And by the looks of your stuff, you ain’t doin' enough I’m poppin' wheelies in the front, leave you in the dust Kick in your door masked up like, “Who in the fuck?” Boy you a ho ho, not just a little piece of pussy Betta watch your ass talkin', you don't know me nigga holdup (Hook) I’m just a project nigga on the front steps And gettin’ money is the concept By any means, and the belt where the gun kept I let that whole clip ride, til ain’t one left in it Try me, I'ma handle my business, handle my business Try me, I'ma handle my business Try me I'ma handle my business, try me [Verse 3: T.I.] All I wanna do is go and chill Take my mind off the ones I wanna go and kill Yea, I’m a daddy, love my little girls But I’ll still check a bitch like ‘Pac did Lauryn Hill Hey I ain’t grow into it, I was born with it Used to sell crack to the children of the corn I’m the reason why your mama warned you Pray you don’t die before you make it to the street corner (Hook) I’m just a project nigga on the front steps And gettin’ money is the concept By any means, and the belt where the gun kept I let that whole clip ride, til ain’t one left in it Try me, I'ma handle my business, handle my business Try me, I'ma handle my business Try me I'ma handle my business, try me!