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(feat. Lord Superb, Polite) [Intro: Molly-Q (Lounge Mode)] Bout to go to the other side (RIGHT!) (RIGHT!) That's right, it's time to get it on You know, cuz it's like.. (You understand what we doin here? Do they understand what we doin here?) Nah.. (RIGHT! RIGHT!) [Polite] Yo, yo.. Eh.. [Chorus x2: Polite] It's 2 sides of the fence, which one you on? Either a friend or foe, if a foe he gone Erase him off the face of the Earth, snake from birth We still on the block, nigga, puttin in work [Lounge Mode] BITCH! It's love and hate Everything is love in the club, I snub-eights I smash out the barbeque, great Ain't no real Willies out there Letras de cancionesIt's just silly niggaz talkin bout they bout it Yo who the kid with the bad mouth? Heard he shout somethin awful at Staten Island niggaz We gone get it right, fuck around, we wild tonight It's all good on the wood We know the world like we know the hood Same shit, guns go off in the night New York coppers, New York robbers It be a hobby to my niggaz, yo you dare come inside my lobby Big guns, big sons, ain't nothin changed In the game, same shit, mothafuckas know the name [Chorus] [Molly-Q] Don't we come as I walk? King Gunner with Lounger I'm Born Invincible, check for me, I'm invisible Digital, smoke leaf juice out the cactus Dance with the Mantis, broke ya, run rampid Slide in with the heat in the tower of death Double impact, bangin attack, send ya mind back Sex slave, ya bird, all up in ya gossip Me and Hass, Clock with rhymes are hypnotic Master my art, in the clubs, about to start Set it off, Molly cough, the gats never toss I'm wanted with my prints on the murder weapon Fuel injectin, learn the lesson while I'm blessin Tracks like Jeff Gordon, speakin through the porcelain Sign O.T.F., big Fourth Horseman [Break: Molly-Q (Lounge Mode)] Out to bank, what? Nothin, baby (Aight, that's so big) Word? Word? I'm hoppin that (I got that) [Chorus] [Lord Superb] Did a movie with Brooke Shields, been to Central Booking Tear Island features and still puttin in workin Hurt 'em, the hood said, "Hurt 'em", vomit murder Think of calm-stalkin niggaz in the yard with burners Sink of Nana been sick, what a nurse said And on the first day, ha ha, the PJ's be Y'all niggaz crazy, what you got the Alzheimers? Me and my mans dream of becomin oldtimers You get the laundry mats, I got the van service Mama born again, hop on to ten churches One man, three houses, two hundred purses Life insurance, green caddies and young chauffers She don't even make bread in her platinum toasters Stay pissy drunk, I never flipped the mattress over And this track is over when I do my ad-libs over I'm just practice flowin, ain't even crackers know this Not even double albums is half the poem Let me in the mic booth, I have to show 'em See the men mackin it all, you laugh at Whodi, he ain't even 50 Cent, he half a quarter [Outro: Polite] And we O.T.F. in it, the bird is back! Y'all got problems, y'all got problems Y'all got problems, oooh.. ohh Yanahmean? Cream Team, O.T.F., my nigga Lounge 'Lite up in here, that's Polite From Letras Mania