[Curren$y:]
Yah...Lames catch feelings, we catch flights, Ugh, Jet Life, Jet Life
Race cars and weed jars
Uh, I got a style for every bump in your face
Grease ball ass nigga, Pontiac judge, open and shut case
You know, I'm bow tied till I die, though I made an exception for the '69
So quick off the line
Coin double side, no matter what, we heads up
We in the yard, tell your dogs they should be aware of us
We break it off, like an engagement gone bad
I fill your jaccuzi with them groupies make it a bird bath, miss me?
No you didn't bitch, with that bullshit, miss me
Tryna claim Spitta name, tyrna be Ms. Me
All of that, kicks to me, silly rabbit trickery
You only around because my spot is where you wish to be
Hope to catch me sleepin' by being freaky but baby girl
Let me be the first to say it's not that easy
I wasn't born yesterday, nor later on that evening
Just had to get that out the way and make the playin' field even
Michael Knight, Michael Knight, Michael Knight
Michael Knight, Michael Knight, Michael Knight
Michael Knight, scoodododododododododoo
Michael Knight, Michael Knight, Michael Knight
Michael Knight, Michael Knight, Michael Knight
Michael Knight, scoodododododododododoo
And the view from the rockin' chair improves
But I've yet to see a team fuckin' with the crew
Near fall, I saw it all, wide frame
Everything with wings ain't a plane man
Indo get rolled up like car windows
Avoiding the police man, them car Winslows
The wind blow in change, and I am not mad
Old garbage bag rappers need to find a style fast
Its written all over niggas like a Dapper Dan
Survive rough land, cactus plants growin' in desert sands
Alive I stand, left for dead, though a nigga didn't die
I got highed up so I could autograph the sky
Michael Knight, Michael Knight, Michael Knight
Michael Knight, Michael Knight, Michael Knight
Michael Knight, scoodododododododododoo
Michael Knight, Michael Knight, Michael Knight
Michael Knight, Michael Knight, Michael Knight
Michael Knight, scoodododododododododoo
[Raekwon:]
Yeah, Shallah Louis Rich
Definitely dressed down and everybody here know it
Yo, a snow white Aston on the ground with a poet
Louis the kid, who told you to come to the crib
Threw a bag in your lap and told you don't blow the kids
We milled up, actually my flowin' is real tough
Sport these gazelles, faded leather on real rough
Bank account, don't even question
Spent all my money last year buyin' shit and investments
Marvelous, gangsta, New York nigga, make me sick
Rather screw honeys who ain't cuffin'
All my life, six black kids stolen right from kick dice
And strip you and slice you
So listen young niggas, I'm a give you some jewels quick
Don't ever rat your friends out, you stand in a pool of shit
Lookin like a crab ass faggot
Sooner or later them boys that was hating on you got the ratchets
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