I channel my thoughts, dope in my scale, hand on my fork We hustlers, prices double up when it land in New York Wait, name a clique with a rep substantial as ours And the work so good, all the fiends compare you to God Dope shooters walk my block like it's the Land of the Lost I gave back to the ghetto, they never hand you awards Cool, this for the homies that's dead, ain't in the yard All the road trips to cop work what got my stamina strong I got my bitch putting animal on I got my first brick and copped cameras for the crib and the alarm Two Os in the V like that Canada squad Magic in the pot like I whip grams with a wand, yeah