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[Intro: Trife Da God (Solomon Childs)] Yeah, ya'll (uh-huh) I would like to make a little announcement (whooo) Knowwhatimsayin'? We got Theodore in the building (ya'll get ready) Straight up and down (yeah) First up to bat (enjoy your classic) Introducing (yeah) the one and only (whooo) The magnificent (you know who it is) Trife Diesel, nigga (yeah, come on) yo [Trife Da God] Aiyo, I'm sort of like a water pipe, I'm ready to blow In a pair of three-fourth quarter Nike's, the color of snow Listen here, sun, duel with my goons'll run through ya For a little bit of change and exchange for some buddha Heat movers, and they barely speak like preschoolers And they hug the block all day, with them C-Rulers Young niggas, ready and willing to clack them thangs Straight out the nest, they just learned how to flap they wings Now, all you niggas better pause for a sec Know your claws run eject, when Theodore's on the set Trife Da God, but for now on, just call me the barber Cuz my hands they go to work like Antonio Tarber Fuck shakin', my word got the fiends vibratin' I ain't playin' fair this year, niggas is violatin' I'm about to spaz out and start passin' out citations Cuz niggas left the hood for good, now they high maintenance You ain't gotta know the name of my band, but this flame in my hand'll SongtextePut a quick somethin', change through your plans Snatch you off stage, while you entertainin' the fans And I don't show favoritism, do the same to your man, what [Chorus x2: Trife Da God] These niggas frontin' on wax Don't make me push your shit back In the hoods, ya'll don't pump like that You'll get your shit pushed right back [Kryme Life] You know the kid got his weight up, now I'm tippin' the scale I gotta eat, and my appetite is large as a whale Got little niggas talkin' big shit, knowin' they frail Fuck the rest, we the most, fresh niggas and steal And I'm about to ring a lot of your bells, I'm at your doorstep Grippin' the iron, bullets flyin' outta them shells You think I'm lion, then ya'll niggas is gazelles And I talkin' bout glasses, son, I'm on your asses Put a hole in the back of your neck, right where your tag is Slabs is like luggage, look how heavy my bags is The ave, I'mma flood it, it's my time to cash in Money good for the gettin', targets good for the hittin' Blaow, me and Trife in the kitchen, cuttin' the mixing style And no compares, to nothing, that ain't offici-al Kryme, I got my stamp on it, got you amped on it And I know what's gonna go, soon as I put my hands on it None of ya'll mans want it, whether we on the corners Or performin', battlin' with mics or straight warrin' [Outro: Solomon Childs] Whoooo... ahhh.. S. Child, Theodore Unit The movie, you muthafucka Aus Songtexte Mania