can see the stars when the ride droppin [Parlae] Aye Jim Jones, (What's Hattninnin!) Let ya boy Parlae get some of that Harlem clientele (What's
be watchin meeeee Ghetto, ghetto, In a Ghetto Life [Cam'Ron talking] It's nothin man, Killa! Diplomats, Cash Money Baby, holla! Jim Jones, Santana, what's
shinin' all over H-Town Verse 4 (Jim Jones) (South let's go I know what it is) I gotta shout my n****z in Houston (Ay Trae what up) That ride old schools
You see man, let's get off of that lame man Let's get into what we like to do man This what we do preferably man We bring that powerful music to your
Dip Set, Jim Jones, Freeky Aight Santana man let's do this Killa, let's do it man, killa Aiyyo, I argue with my mother Spring, summer, fall and winter
bus wit beats But I'mma ride anyway, get high anyway An' let my V.V.S. jewels blind your eyes anyway, fucker Y'all wannabe gangsta's listen to me After
no number it's a sound I'm Jim Brown in his day, toughest nigga to tackle I'll leave your brains hangin out like Chris Rock's adam's apple I'm so rare
daze like this) I love paintin' these pictures for the hood, you dig (That's where I'm at Eastside) It's Dip-Set, Eastside, let's ride (Come on) They
..Killa, Jones, Jones, Let's Go are [Cam'Ron] Clowns don't come around, pound pounds i pump in town Do like House of Pain, Kriss Kross, jump around Jumpin
nation, let it go what, what Bitch I would speak your mind, even if they offended you 'cous Ride off in the sun set, with the streets niggas 'cause that's
dark pair of shades Aint you cant see my eyes unless my head is bent , you dig Chrous (Jim Jones) We fly high, No Lie ,You know this (BALLIN!) Foreign rides
been sippin? on? What you been hittin' on? It be them chicks in bikinis we bought ?em Cris's on Call me Diddy, let's ride that out, stop that talk outside
y'all better rep Harlem until the god-damned music is through Mister C, let's Go All eyes on the honorable, who? Dipset, back to the grill again live at the barbecue Beefs on, all my kids ride
's on my arm wit' that shit For your moms, put a bomb in her whip They be wonderin', where the car and her went On some arsenal shit Jim Jones is the
the time So check the wrath, it's for real, I'm gonna get mine Roll up on you like Eastwood Blowing up fifteens as I'm riding through your neighborhood
Oh, yeah Da, da, da, da, da (Bad boy) Oh, Yeah (come on) Jim Jones! [Jim Jones] Now what would Diddy say if he caught you in my coupe on the way uptown