Yeah (yeah) yea - Yeah (yeah) yea
Yeah.. yo (yo) yo (yo)
CMB (Who?) Who else? (Who?)
The undisputed CMB (Who hold the title?)
We hold the title, you know why?
(Aight, yes) Look..
There ain't a cat out green that could deal with Weez'
Homie quick like coupes, AH! Feel the breeze
And I'm Holly Grove's heart, the hood made me trill
The hottest Hot Boy baby, time reveal
And I'm momma's oldest boy, papa's first seed
But poppa's not real, he don't bleed what I bleed
I'm nineteen strong, a kid with a kid
And ain't too many people outdid what I did
I rock bricks down, I rock e'ry town
I puff the best 'dro, pound for pound
Now say Round, the boy tough not bluff
Yeezy Weezy, young money Squad up
Whoever don't like it mount up
Then down ya go, I been a champ like the dude Monroe
Not in ten years, they still wouldn'ta planned it
For every one to fall and I still be standin
[Hook] - 2X
We can't lose!
We been through too much pain
Too much struggle, and too much strain
This is CMR
Though them haterz tryna lock us in
We got it locked from the block to the pen
I'm the ice man whodie, it's nothin to ex ya out
Put the G on the head, ain't got to say it out the mouth
With the beanie with the bluejean jacket, metal packin
Walkin up that walk and I'm bout that jackin
I do this for the penitentiary, holla!
I'll stunt for y'all while I'm spendin these dollars!
I lock cells like four corner blocks
I'm the bird man, I never chipped off the top
I'm switch-handed, when I'm swingin I'm landin
I thug on the street and I thug red-banded
Wipe you off the land, it's a concrete jungle
A tip fulla gangstaz, O.Z.'s, and bundoes
The tip drops for the clowns I put under
You know, I been livin like this for ten summers
I'm the boss of the ghetto, black crow of the game
3rd Ward survivor, ain't a damn thang changed!
[Hook] - 2X
Say hold up, check this out
We 'bout to cut the lights off right?
Send me some meddum and a joe
And while ya at it, send that week down here wit it
Whodie I done sent for ya, so it's best ya come
I'm Lac Saladin, the dog of the pris-on
I'm the next best thing to the warden
Plus I'm chargin, two bits on accordin
I send words to an old blister, with no pistol
The B.G.F. still sho' getcha
I walk with my pants saggin
I'm a H.B.G. for life, now what's happenin?
Please whatchu talkin, I'm a dead man walkin
If we was on the streets then the .44 would be barkin
Keep the shank on the left side and the titch right here
I'm the greasy outta B.C. that's runnin the tip
With the Black Gorillas, petty hustlers and esay's
Jeffery Dimer, Son of Sam, Arrogant Nation and O'Jay
Now how you gon' stop them, throw away the key and lock them
Tell the D.A. it's them against me, cockin