"Intro - Hand it Down"
Vol. 2...Hard Knock Life
Nah, this ain't Jigga, it's your lil' nigga Bleek/reportin' to these motherfuckers live from the street/ game I peeped those, my mind so advanced at nine I used to geese hoes for Easter clothes.
Peep the steez, I represent for all those with twenty eight grams on a come up, tryin' to creep the keys/large niggaz told me park the car, keep the keys find a hoodrat and creep to Mickey D's.
First gun two bullets, niggaz know I do pull it/niggaz tryin' to kill me dog, who wouldn't?
Screw Gooden, I pitch in the PJ's/lit off the EJ, I split Dutchies with my ring finger.
You find a bitch that only cream bring her/last seen with Bing, he got dropped between us/shit is constant, that's why I pack the Johnson and Johnson for the nonsense who wants it?
I go to sleep with a picture of a Porsche on my wall/man I'm tryin' to come up on y'all/get one up on y'all, that's why I hustle in these streets from sundown to sunup on y'all.
Mama said, "Keep bullshittin', they'll kill you dead"/one week of this hustlin' brought a livin' room set/went to Tom D's, niggaz mad, veins out/copped the Jordans, two weeks before they came out.
Flashy, fly little nigga/nosy bitch from the third floor like, "Why little nigga?"
Bitch please, twist the trees, took a long pull, like bitch to breathe/that's my answer, life's like cancer and I'm serious.