Intro: repeat 2X
  This goes out to you
  This goes out to you, and you, and you, and you
  Verse One:
  Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns
  As I crush so-called willies, thugs, and rapper-dons
  Get in that ass, quick fast, like Romma-Don
  Its that rap phenomenon
  Don-Dadda, fuck Poppa
  You got ta, call me, Francis M.H. White
  In tank-light totes, tote eyein
  Was told in shootout
  Stay low, and keep firin
  Keep extra clips for extra shit
  Who's next to flip, on that cat with that grip on rack
  The mo shady, cranky baby
  Ain't no tellin where I may be
  May see me in DC at Howard Homes
  Comin, with my man Capone, Dummin, fuckin somethin
  You should know my stilo
  Went from 10 G's for blow to 30 Gs a show
  To orgies with hoes I never seen before
  So, Jesus, get off the Notorious penis
  before I squeeze and bust
  If theres beef between us
  We can settle it
  With that chrome-metal shit
  I make it hot, like a kettle get
  You're delicate, you better get
  Who sent ya?
  You're still peddle shit
  I got more rides than Great Adventure
  Biggie
  Chorus: repeat 4X
  Kick in the door wavin the four-four
  All you heard was poppa don't hit no more
  Verse Two:
  On ya mark, get set
  when I spark, ya wet
  Look how dark it get
  When ya marked with death
  Should I start ya breath
  Or should I let you die
  In fear you start to cry, ask why
  Lyrically, I'm worser
  Don't front the word sick
  You cursed it, but rehearsed it
  I drop unexpectedly like bird shit
  You perps get, stuck quickly for raw tease and show money
  Don't forget the publishin
  I punish em
  I'm done with them
  Son, I'm surprised you run with them
  I think they got cum in them
  Cuz they, nothin but dicks
  Tryin to blow up like nitro and dynamite sticks
  Man I smoke hydro rock diamonds, thats sick
  Got pay off my flow, rhyme with my own clique
  Take trips to Cairo, layin with yo bitch
  I know you prayin you was rich
  Fuckin prick
  When I see ya I'ma
  Chorus
  Verse Three:
  This goes out to those that choose to use
  Disrespectful view on the King of NY
  Fuck that, why try, throw bleach in ya eye
  Now ya Braille'in it, stash that light shit
  Or scalin it
  Conscience of ya nonsense in 88,
  Sold more powder than Johnson and Johnson
  Tote steel like Bronson
  Vigilante
  You wanna get on son, you need to ask me
  Ain't no other king in this rap thing
  They siblings
  Nothing but maturin, one shot, they disappearin
  Its ill when, MC's used to be on crazy shit
  Took home, Ready To Die, listen, study shit
  Now they on some money shit, successful out the blue
  They light weight, fragilly, my nine milly
  Make the white shake, thats why my money never funny
  And you still recoupin, stupid