Best Out-40 Cal

Best Out - 40 Cal Okay,okay,okay, yes sir Hell Rell, J.R. Writer, forty This is how we do it, maan I am one of a kind, yeah It's now or never, ni**a Time's up, muthaf**ka Let's do this Aiyo, I stop paying for coke, get bricks on the muscle Gorillas on they bullshit, welcome to the jungle Fiends get served in the hallway, welcome to the hustle Where b**ches do anything for a hit of that glass dick When I'm outta town, nothing less than a half brick One-Sixty on the dash, nothing less than a fast whip I floss when it's sunny, got money for a rainy day In the d**e spot a few blocks from where the Yankees play Man, I'm heavy in that BX borough, we ain't gotta front for nobody We just thorough and I'm sittin' on an arsenal, rockets and the missiles Took my advance and got my strip poppin' with them nickels And when I'm in ya neighborhood, you gotta go hide Deliver bullets to ya door like them domino pies ni**a Say hello to my little friend like Scarface I pull that f**kin' rifle right out the guitar case Dipset, the best out, Hell Rell, he fresh out Jones the kuffe smacker, he bringing them techs out Sporty-style, 40 cal, he bringing Corvettes out Bezel, the beast but I still show you what fresh 'bout You know who shavin' the grams, 40k on the hand Killa ni**a, what more can I say about Cam J.R. the writer of writers and Santana Back like cooked crack, he even supplying suppliers The type that I'm tighter, tight 'cause I'm writer Write 'cause I'm nicer, site for the lifers Knifes in the cipher, writers a viper, listen this is butter Even ringling brothers see I got the eye of the tiger Before I met killa cam, I was dealing killa grams I mean killer grams, throws a tan, fill a pan Recorded in the hole, where you couldn't chill or stand No booth, microphone hangin off the ceiling fan Mass million fan sittin' in the Belly Hilton Watch how I heavy kills him, Bessey, Chevy, Desi fill 'em But I still ain't break a sweat, yes I'm chillin' Veet wong, seat wrong, Tito gonna bet the building I been grind to lean, sniff lines for fiends Grams chopped, tan rock, I pitch lima beans Piff grind was mean, had 'em dumb stuck So when I say uncut, I don't mean behind the scenes Dipset, the best out, Hell Rell, he fresh out Jones the kuffe smacker, he bringing them techs out Sporty-style, 40 cal, he bringing Corvettes out Bezel, the beast but I still show you what fresh 'bout You know who shavin' the grams, 40k on the hand Killa ni**a, what more can I say about Cam J.R. the writer of writers and Santana Back like cooked crack, he even supplying suppliers Yo, I'm a NY G like Jeremy Shockey Come through drop my coupe like I meant to be sloppy I got DJ's kickin' karate 'Cause they throw my wax on and take your wax off like Mr. Myagi Pimpin', I'm cocky, I slap your broad on the cheek And send her home barefooted, you massaging her feet You probably go down on a freak, you're hardly a meat But we ain't mad 'cause you're proving, you are what you eat Your squadron is weak, speak and get a broken something Need a plate in ya grill like a toaster oven F**k it, they even got dojas frontin' Shakin' your cola, only time your coke was bubbling cousin Cal get weight with no problemo Ride around ya block, sell it out the car window And ya mom's been know, that I chop rocks That make your father cop like Carl Winslow Dipset, the best out, Hell Rell, he fresh out Jones the kuffe smacker, he bringing them techs out Sporty-style, 40 cal, he bringing Corvettes out Bezel, the beast but I still show you what fresh 'bout You know who shavin' the grams, 40k on the hand Killa ni**a, what more can I say about Cam J.R. the writer of writers and Santana Back like cooked crack, he even supplying suppliers