Ain't Cha (feat. Re-Up Gang & Roscoe P. Coldchain)

Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha?

Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain't cha?

Hmm, gon' getcha Air Force plane, ain't cha?

Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain't cha?

Through despair I traipse, bakin' pies, bakin' cake

Hustlin' them E's and that C's and that H

While you probably talkin' frantic on the tape

**** in the hood ain't tryna hear, "Man it was a mistake"

They'll call you a bitch, not a bandit at ya wake

Epitaph readin' how much damage you could take

While I'm on the boat with ya bitch, salmon on the plate

I know why you liked her, the head, it was great

Lovin' these bezels set chains with no space

86 karats, you know how much diggin' in the planet this could take?

Patent leather Bapes (Uh, uh!)

Closet like planet of the Bape!

Monkey see, monkey do, monkeys followin' in place

Like I'm livin' in an episode of "Planet of the Apes"

You're watchin' the evolution of one of rap's greats

You **** tryna take my place? Never happen

Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha?

Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain't cha?

Hmm, gon' getcha Air Force plane, ain't cha?

Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain't cha?

Dig it, every time I do it, encore

Slide out the Lincoln with the suicide doors

Ma, and I'm blingin' like Baby with all that shit on

My block pop till all that shit gone

What? You pussies hardly eat

What you spend on a home is a gaudy piece

On the chest of a biz-oss, it's a must I fliz-oss

My dream team wrestle for cheese like Eric Bischoff

From the kickoff to tip off

I give off rays from the VVs, ice glazed like lip gloss

Thinkin' they can see me, I beg to diff-arr

Look up in the skiz-eye, it the Big Dip-arr

(That's cold!) It's chilly in Philly, it's that real

Nobody know karate, more bodies than "Kill Bill"

Somebody get beside me, Lord, will his blood spill

Like a waterfall, fuck around, make me slaughter y'all

Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha?

Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain't cha?

Hmm, gon' getcha Air Force plane, ain't cha?

Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain't cha?

Oh, you just gon' take without askin', ain't cha?

You just grabbin', you ain't earnin' for shit, that's too old-fashion

Look, tulip, I will never tuck a jewel up

Kindergarten, did they not tap your knuckle with the ruler?

I'm the era of the Juice Crew, don't let that dookie noose you

One and one is two, it's just as simple as Blue's Clues

The nine will get most of you, turn yourself around

For he who want to run up and earn himself a crown

Meanwhile, study somethin' ****, this Gucci, Parker

From France where the kids sing Frere Jacques

If not there, I'm somewhere mixin' vodkas

In a far off land, where they shake maracas and shit

Keep it movin' like them keys of coke

You the hunted motherfucker and I'm Benicio

Not Tommy Lee, see we never involve the law

If it seems the walls are closin' in, it's only 'cause they are, motherfucker

Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha?

Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain't cha?

Hmm, gon' getcha Air Force plane, ain't cha?

Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain't cha?

I'm a natural born hustler, I, the risk taker

I get it cross the border, the Alpha, the Omega

My life, I scripted the paper, posh like the wrist in the cradle

That hug the diamonds that kiss for you haters

Grimaldi, is so gaudy

But it's just so picture-perfect as I lean in that six-forty-

Five C.I., I'm on them blades like T.I

Them **** hate to measure 'cause they knee high

Still slingn' that P-I, E what I bring by

Me 50 cal, pretty desert up my sleeve, I

Still huggin' that corner so tight it can't breathe, I

Never let it go 'cause a **** gotta eat, I

Came to conquer the game, the flame and the powder

And the pot, stirred it crazy, hustle I'm a lead-a

Still in the game, tippin' the scale like Libra

You don't really want that halo over your Caesar, no

Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha?

Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain't cha?

Hmm, gon' getcha Air Force plane, ain't cha?

Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha?

Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha?