I was raised in the era when Getting money niggas was paid off of heroin Nowadays, they in jail or going broke Hot as hell, that's a fact -- watch you rat on they folks I say what broke nigga raised 'em? Where's the loyalty in this game? Been doing ice for years, you just met David Blaine What you want? A Rollie, cuban link, a big ring? All these rap cats wearing the same thing Talking this riff, but only a few change Black whip, that's that mussain, nigga I'm too paid [Hook: Fred Money] You see, there's leaders and there's followers I'm too busy getting chips to acknowledge ya You see, there's leaders and there's followers I'm too busy getting chips to acknowledge ya [Verse 2: J.R. Writer] I'm from the era of the crack Different level kinda rap My competitor is wack He can never get a track I'm a veteran, it's evident I'm better than you cats Nigga better than, it's light Thomas Edison know that When I rap, you can tell Little bit of Big, little bit of L Little bit of Pac, little bit of Pun You don't like my shit? You can go to hell Hold up -- I'm here, though Snapping on you zeros Sorry to tell you, but your favorite rapper is a weirdo Yeah, I'm bar-for-bar the best It's the Harlem threat Sickening, tell them God it's chess I put the song to rest Your lady fam said she dig it, R is fresh Wanna take her hands and dig in my Armani sweats Keep that broad in check Who said he wanna spar with death? Shhhh -- it's quiet when I'm on the set Them bitches that you want I hit 'em when I want Getting in the jump off of Henny and a blunt Jodeci, got my diamonds singing all at once She know it's me, black Mercedes sprinter in the front Chump, look me up -- ain't no hotter with the pen I'm dope; shoot me up -- I just got under your skin Must be getting high thinking I ain't sick as him