Your Way - Jr Writer, Juelz Santana, Cam'Ron

Aight — yo

I ain’t gon' front, I always thought he was a survivor

Shells and rounds, held 'em down, when he was in the fire

Now feds got him tapped from the sneakers to attire

Just like Kanye West, speakin' through the wire

Like: «Don't forget, make sure you speak into the wire!»

Thinkin' not he was singin', he would be up in the choir

When I find 'em, I’ma put the heater to his visor

All he’s gon' see is the screechin' on the tire

Up the block, bang a right, make a left

Thang I light, made 'em stretch

Candlelights, graves are set

Not only that though — all his weight was wet

Hustle dummies, fucked up money, and was way in debt

It was all good just a week ago

We was together smokin', hella reefer smoke

All in the vehicle

I got the word back: he was in the vehicle

With the D’s, I bet he thought he was low

Damn, this nigga spent the night in my crib

Sat in my mom’s kitchen, now he go off snitchin'

But this my man, I could just stop fuckin' wit' 'em

Like I’m just not fuckin' wit''em…or just pop one up in 'em

Plus — there’s rules here: if you play where the rats play

You gotta go, you must lay where the rats lay

Hate to see a nigga that I broke bread with

His whole head split — cold, dead, stiff