Текст песни: Hell Razah & 4th Disciple. Freedom Of Speech. House Pitality.

[Intro: Hell Razah]
Uh, uh-huh, one-two and, 4th Disciple, yea
Razah Rubies, and, this how we do it, yea, one-two
One-two and, G.G.O., yeah

[Chorus 2X: Hell Razah]
It goes, hoes love you for that money you make
Show me some house-pitality, when we come in you state
Ghetto Government, we strugglin', for food on our plate
We all hustlin', the doublin', the little we make

[Hell Razah]
I get weed high, I get Hennessey drunk
I clothesline you rap niggaz like an elephant trunk
My wisdom's bleedin' every month, seven days untouched
We got stuck by the same ones who claim to be us
We can't die, multiply, the most high, we trust
You lie, we bust, forty-five's will tie you up
Calculate the proper measurement, to size you up
Matter fact, I heard the government done wired you up
You like to hide around wickedness to wise you up
Not knowing Christ coming here to rise you up
One line be like a hundred g's, I'm huntin' M.C.'s
Battle me, all I'm gonna do is go up in fee's
How the baddest hoe you know, go below on her knees
My family, Maccabeez, here to gather the seeds
Took my Queen out the Kingdom, and put her in jeans
New York, New York, big city of schemes
Me and her, love to ball, like a basketball team
Remind me of the nine, with the infered beam
Too much pussy screams, diamond ring fllings
To get a king set up, and wet up for CREAM

[Chorus x2]

[Hell Razah]
Young cubs in the jungle, with a bundle of drugs
Caught 'em slippin' in the hotel, brains in the tub
Room service came with more than just, some towels and grub
Don't you never mix your business up, with fallin' in love
Money break hearts, that's why the poor be holdin' a grudge
Until we rise, we gonna stay in front of the judge
All the corner hustlers, we were Kings til they rushed us
Brought us to the North America's, and handcuffed us
Medicaid, food stamps, welfare, WICK, to benefit
Got us on some 'fuck the President' shit
Ghetto Government, fake niggaz can't run with it
Ain't not rich without the poor, son, it's one strugglin'
What you wanna hear? Flossin' and shootin'?
Prostitution, and drug abusing, buying and stealing with car re-using
Who's producin' it? Studio spot, we did the music in
What guns I got, how many shots, do my clip hold
The Sunz of Man go gold or not, and do we owe alot
Sip Mo' alot, follow in and callin' the shots
26 years ago, I was inside of my pops
One drop, '03, here to blow up the spot

[Chorus x2]

[Outro: Hell Razah]
Take your hat off and you show your respect man
State to state, man, straight up man
Nighttime dark shit, nigga