Текст (слова) песни: Fredro Starr f Begetz, Sincere - Big Shots

 
[Chorus: Begetz] 
Aiyo we Big Shots, we Big Shots 
And we done fucked all ya bitches, ya bitches 
I only fucks wit my niggas, my niggas 
So we them true-to-life killas, killas 
We takin Other People Money, they money 
And then we buyin all the cars, the cars 
Man bump `em on chrome, chrome 
Besides that yo we stars, we stars 
 
[Fredro Starr] 
I`m the Gafo DeGafo, boss of New York 
Cover my mouth when I speak, feds watch what I talk 
Throwin hits at the judges, in the criminal courts 
Criminal thoughts, these streets wit killas to sport 
This is Mafia music to murder you wit, inserted the clips 
Drive-bys, on convertible whips, the verdict is this 
4/5th, burnin my fist, pullin shades down, murderous bitch 
Anonymous threats, blueprints designin ya death 
Organize crime times, throw a bomb in ya Lex 
Fadam or Begetz, killas might climb in ya rest 
Two nickel nines left a dime in his vest, sometimes in his chest 
Crime scenes covered in tape, blood in the gates 
Black robes, funeral homes, shootin ya wake 
Kidnap, raised as children, to be rulin 
Other People Money, we kill men 
 
[Chorus] 
 
[Sincere] 
My goods pull, like Sammy the Bull 
Sin`ll pop you, D.O.A.`ll bomb you 
Mafia style, boss me? Body a child 
When I get locked it`s like Gotti on trial 
Five years in the pen, separated from friends 
I`m only 21, kept the shakers and gun 
Blow in ya face, stab you below ya waist 
The type to chase death, like faces of death 
Sippin the Henny, pray, let the Lord forgive me 
I know I spit hot like the Devil was in me 
Claimin my Church, the type to put `woke` in the church 
If my gun jerk, more holes in ya shirt 
Bustin my gun, who you know fuck wit dunn 
Put six in ya burners, I ain`t feelin you son 
Stop the bull, ya ain`t got guns to pull 
Ya still yappin, ain`t enough gun clappin 
 
[Chorus 2X]
 

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