[Born Divine]
Yo, your boy Born back, one hot track
Another masterpiece for all my hood niggas
The sting in the street, trying to survive, man
We gotta get right and take care of fam
So we hustle son, and play the block heavy
I never snitch and never ran, when the chops sweat me
I earn my stripes, listen, from the streets to prison
Niggas know me, dog, and my divine mission
I got the game now, like me and money green
On the compound, yo, this a lock down
And yea as clear as dawn and harm city Born
Reppin' B-More for life, with that heat drawn
I'm bout to take off boy, light years gone
Lightspeed on, I breeze by, like whooo
The way you going, to the top, man
I can't stop fam, can't you niggas, tell?
Look at this cartel, we moving weight now
My CD's jamming like they told vows
My flow so different, with so many styles
Plus my voice ill, you boys better chill
Cuz my fam kill, shhh, don't squeal
Wheels peel out, and the darkness appear
Like roaches when they see the lights
You better get it right, cuz we ain't come to fight, ight?
[Cappadonna]
Sick with the flows, I spit for hoes
I grind everyday, fuck cheeks in they holes
Spark my yae, I'm still ghetto, with t-shirts
Jeans hard and stiff, I don't give a fuck
Shit, my Skwad is thick, we don't fall back
Fuck, we in charge of the shit, fly suit, red Havana Joe's
Muslim oil, I'm hood, nigga, what? Man, you know I'm spoiled
New York City, what, you know I'm loyal
Baltimore City, I got love for you
Popped off the first time that I ever saw you
Murdaland mixed with New York music
It's something in the cosmic, making me use this
I move slick, jump over cunts, prostitutes bitch
Get up to my hair, the grooves is a bitch
The Better Life, more papers, hoes and fishsticks
Biscuits, sneak 'em in the club, icepicks
Me and Clayborne, yo, we keep us a nice chick
The police they ain't got us in they vicegrips
[Little Clayway]
Chilling in a nice whip, staying on some real shit
Look kid, we got skills to pay the bills, and eat a meal, for real
Even if a nigga gotta get killed
I'mma get mine, fuck standing in that checkline, waiting on the government
I'd rather grab the tech nine, fuck, go through hard times
All the time, it's rough on the brother
Got the d's, to stick up hoes and my baby mother
Not a lover, I gotta use the rubber with the chick
Can't trust her, child support sending me case numbers
Game is sour, streets going under
Uh, money is power, we ain't getting younger
Yo, I'm like a lion with a five day hunger
And I shine like the sun, in the middle of summer
Uh, give me a beat and I flip that
Start a record label and show you how I did that
Give me some dat, you know it cost niggas some stacks
Plus a nigga did it from scratch
Used to be pushing them cracks, when a nigga had
BBS's on the Ac', caught a flashback
Grown now, speaking on facts
Still talk slow when I rap, my nigga Cap
My nigga Born in the back
Wu-Tang, Clayway, what's fucking with that?
[Chorus 2X: Cappadonna]
My gang gon' kick ya'll ass
My gang gon' kick ya'll ass
My gang gon' kick ya'll ass
And stomp ya'll niggas out
[Outro: DJ Fontane]
Yeah, the Better Life Movement
Masterminds Productions
Your boy DJ Fontane, Clayway Records
You know how we hold it down
Wu-South, uh
