Holding Weight

Aiyo, who you know fresher than Fes?
I don’t fight, you could wrestle the tech
Plus I bling like the bezel begets
On the streets, an incredible rep
Cuz beef only settle in death
I point the metal at refs
The game is crazy
Say that this money’ll change me
Hate on me than ask, «Can you spare some change?»
I was broke, you wasn’t feelin' my pain
'98, I was willin' to rage from dealin' them 'caine
Snitch niggaz squealin' my name
So the hammer I concealed 'til it bang
Blind haters when I’m wearin' my chain
Wolf Pack dubs, I rarely’ll clang
Fans check for me, so the streets feel me in claim
In every magazine, fillin' up the Phillie with haze
I’m like, Billy the Kid, the Milli’ll blaze
Nowadays, they know me as a Willie, I’m paid
Miami Beach, they tried to deal me some shade
I’m only visitin'…
We out here eatin', get ya weight up homey
Grams to kilos, demand the receipt though, whoa
We out here eatin', get ya weight up homey
Ounces to pounds, bounce through the town, now
I grind all night, grind all day
Roll up a blunt, this is ya mind on haze
I meant to say this is ya brain on drugs
Wit ya brain on slugs, I ain’t high enough to leave behind the OJ gloves
Mask on, they don’t know who he was
This is crook music, why the party gears to pull a juks to it
You could lean with it, rather do the push to it
Walkin' through the club, bump a nigga like, get stupid
Troop it to hell, then back to the block
You play me, you stupid as hell, the ratchet’ll pop
Dig pockets then I’m snatchin' ya gwop
Hit the mall up, spend ya re-up not on fashion I rock
I’m the greatest, my latest LP, Taylor Made it
Can’t fade it, if they had the hands of my barber with razors
What’s that? Star Trek phazers?
They playin' with real guns, not Toys R Us kids with cap guns
Slap son, yappin' his gums
Talkin' shit like, I ain’t from the slums
Killah Hill where I come from
Yo, I’m really livin' this
I’ve put in work since '92, grind too, since Milli was militant
Grind from the ignorance
Fans wonder why, I ain’t been signed, bottom line, every album I’m killin' it
I guess they feelin' it
Kinda like Jay’s song, hip hop, I don’t never wanna leave like Trey Songz
My cake long, beef with Fes, leave with a brace on
You a bitch-ass nigga, son, you probably wear lace thongs
Crossdresser, drag queen, lookin' like RuPaul
Behind the scenes, he a fag, I tell 'em the truth y’all
Hoes love me, wanna fuck me, tell her we only buddies
Death threats, two broads’ll suck me, know me as Cutty
I’m big pimpin', still think different than most players
The toast sprayer, fuck Bloomberg, I choke mayors
My gross pay’ll make an NBA salary
Look like grams of fat, compared to calories, nigga