B I'm feeling it from the heart now B.
Yo straight up yo this Murder Harlem World is the clique
I'm with my nigga Killer and we bout to lay it down 4 y'all niggaz
All yall faggot ass niggaz out there that wouldn't give us $300
To make a demo F*** YALL NIGGAZ!
All y'all bitches that wouldn't suck my dick when I was Mason Betha
F*** YALL BITCHES!
And all yall bitches that wanna F*** my nigga*
Huddy Combs cuz he roll wid me, F*** YALL BITCHES!!!
All y'all niggaz that F***ed around and made my nigga Blood can't be
Poppin' on niggaz, mayn, F*** YALL NIGGAZ!!
*background chorus starts, goes all throughout song until noted
F*** you, F*** you!
This goes out to Mr. F***in' Russell
Who never let me gamble or play numbers, you always talkin' bout
I'm F***in' too young
And what about that F***in', that F***in' transit cop
Who was there every time I had to F***in' hop the train
Wanted to play like he F***in' ran the whole station
Like he, like he had to run the whole F***in' shift
Also yeah, yah...
To the teacher who failed me
To the bitch who never bailed me, yah, you thought I wasn't getting
Well now, I got out, F*** you!!
Plus she never gave me no bread
Plus she never gave me no head
And that pussy was soooo wack
It was wack, B. Yo, F*** you!
Yeah, you thought I wouldn't go pro
But now I'm F***in' yo' hoe!!
HaHa!! F*** you!!
But I know these, these bitches wanna say ' F*** these niggaz', too,