You think you saw-it all, but I got mad clothes up in my closet/
Cuz I got "wads" of cash like someone "jacked off" in my wallet/
I cant stand-fakes who claim to hold heat but then they hands-shake/
While J got more "fat stacks" than a plate of IHOP pan-cakes/
Hold-it-mayne, you cats might think you got skills but ya flow-is-lame/
With a bottle of "Jack", I "sip more JD" than the girls that blow-Jermaine/
I leave ya "Family Tied" up like that sitcom wit Michael J-Fox/
My drug dealin's like "David to Goliath", the way I "slang-rocks"/
To start-a-great rhyme, you need me, so stay apart-from-hate/
Just cuz Im holdin cash and yall stay broke like apartment-gates/
I make ya show-ya-shame-fam, while I own-my-bank-branch/
Cuz I "hold more green" in my hands than Notre-Dame-fans/
You bitches-weak, if I roll up and drive by in a tinted-Jeep/
Then watch ya back kid cuz i stay strapped like infant-seats/
You want-it-with-this? Ill run up and straight shove a gun-in-ya-ribs/
And fuck carrying heat, I got an oven on each one-of-my-hips/