And So - Boot Camp Clik

I do what I do, like I do for the hood

Pop tools, pop jewels burn Backwoods

Slay DJs who think they untouchable

Renegade, never been afraid MCs get it too

The moral of the story is this

I used to say get off but this time, suck my dick

I’m from BK, home of B.I.G.

and Aaliyah

Watch how the pound of the four-fifth leave ya

I guess I’m back where I started

Opening up for Buckshot and just rapping retarded

I hate the life that I’m living;

I need it

Don’t believe me, ask my wife and my children

See I’m back on the street, packing the heat

Royalty checks equal to crack in the street

Niggas like, fuck crack, Ruck, rap to the beat

I’m like, All right I’ll be back in a week: listen

From day one I had bad start

To eat, Moms stole meat out of Pathmark

I ain’t playing, I went from

Depraved in the street to blazing heat

To blazing heat to Hazen Street

Did a couple of months and came home

Thought about what I did

Did the same shit, I ain’t come back home

Niggas like «Why you done that homes?»

«I don’t know — shit, fuck — I don’t know»

The saga continues

The motherfucking drama continues

Buck brought a bomb to ya interview

And blew off the main topic

What’s up with Boot Camp Clik son?

They ain’t knocking

They ain’t hot 'n' ain’t dropping the now topics

But listen nigga, this is how I pop shit

I don’t mean Moet corks when the poet talks

Every line leave you blind when the mind get lost

Rhymes are enforced with action

'Cause everybody looking like

Is they slacking?

Are they back in?

What’s cracking?

Nigga, I’m hip-hop like the back-spinning

Never change the fact that I did it back then

Way before this all began

Back when I wasn’t rapping, I was scrapping for ends

Stopped crime, started rhyming

Knapsack and my Tims

Chart climbing, y’all comp can get a gat to ya ribs

There’s a thin between what I rep and I live

When you violate mine I’m getting back at you kid

Don’t let it get to the gun clapping and shit

Plastic wrap, back smack you in the back of ya wig

I, make it so you won’t get back to ya crib

Break your wrist, never scratch, you never wreck it again

Take a risk, never steal from Steele and Tek again

Take the fifth, cock the hammer, let it rest on your chin

My dudes destine to win, fuck ya thoughts

Wanna brawl dog my team love the sports

And so ya thinking I’m «The One» like Jet Li

Test me Steele will leave you resting

I can’t take this

Blood boiling pressure rising

Open my eyes and we narrowed down to seven guys

And so you ask about the god D. O

I’m top notch, holding my spot, gun by my crotch

You think not I’m respected and feared around here

And so, I must be prepared around here

You know everything that glitters ain’t gold

You hoe getting pimped by niggas you don’t know

That’s whoa, watch out for cars that move slow

Windows low, I was taught by the best to do the one

And gain control of this game and be sold not told

And so, I’ma rep for B-double-O-T C-A-M-P

'Cause I’m Top D-O-G, Number Three

You know me from the O.G.C.s, that blow trees

Fucking with them Cocoa B’s

(We OGs) Fucking with them Cocoa B’s

Fuck everything you been told

Shit like Buck ain’t never went gold

He never have a platinum hit

He on that underground backpack rapping shit

If you for real than you know the deal

(I do or I die, and I never ran never will)

And sooo — you still peeping my words

Words that get niggas locked up in 73rd

You forgot who we are?

Have you lost all your respect for my squad?