Sangtekst: Dj Drama & Fabolous. There Is No Competition. Taking Pictures.

(feat. Red Cafe, Paul Cain, Freck Billionaire)

[Verse 1: Red cafe]
The money on the wood, The "B" on the hood
So what I talk I live, Let it be understood
The smell is so good, Presidential on the street
You know a nigga never put a pencil on a beat
Spring fresh, At the spring fest
Perfect attendence motherfucker, We bling best
Huh, This a bossed up king set
Is r Cain, Loso and my mane Freck
Can't be cloned, I rise like baked flour
Can't be stoned, I'm high as the Sear's Tower
Live by the code, Ride don't dare cowar
24 straight hours, I'm Jack Bauer
Punish the block, With the milk white powder
Enough water to give the burrough a light shower
Enough hammers grip grip, And cause thunder
I'm just here to get the bread, I ain't talkin Wonder
But the feds takin pictures of me
Da lean like it's on syrup, Need a picture of me
I'm so Brooklyn, I scream [? ]
I'm so Flatbush, I'm labor day
I'm the pie baker, I'm doin cakes today
I'm gettin rid of the weight, I'm Ricky Lake today
It's the fidda didda dam on ya cam
Murda a make dem boys blam

[Verse 2: Fabolous]
I wasn't one that'll flash em, I rather buck em
Most niggas a stash em, I rather tuck em
I either CL class em, Or Rover truck em
Den drive right past em like motherfuck em
See the game likes wall street
I watch the ups and downs like stock betters
I'm Velveeta with it, Still gettin block cheddar
I'm with the rock shredders, Glock outta the box getters
Come through like Katrina, They call em the block wetters
Blah Blah, Thanks to the rock setters
I'm shinin, Reclinin on this Maybech's leather
I'm in the Rich Yung mock sweater, Block letters
Nike airs croc leather, Who rocks better
Ask Greg Street bout the Las Veg suite
The presidential joint with the Ronald Reg sheets
They either throw salt, Or think it's nutmeg sweet
So I keep the heat where the stomach and the legs meet
It's Loso Croft, You can call me Tomb Raider
We break in homes, We the livin room raiders
Snatch wifey, Come back for groom later
Throw in the back of the van like she on room raiders
Ha Ha, The rookie niggas pay homage
The bitches throw the box at me like vonage
The 4 horsemen, Ron O, Flam tummy
Niggas this fully, Ski mask ya skully

[Verse 3: Paul Cain]
I'm a Rich Yung boss, Gettin money is my occpation
My net worth numbers look like China's population
I'm a hustla by blood nigga not relations
Stutta gang, Cain put a stop to ya operation
Stop debatin, I'm one of the hardest bar for bar
Constantly splurtin and I could match the dealers car for car
Nigga the god a star, Shinin like a?
Some niggas marked with scars, Ya'll know who the gods are
But me I ride different, I ain't with the dry snitchin
I ain't like these guys bitchin ship jumpin and side switchin
I keep live fish and all of my grind pies flippin
I'm bout a dollar, I stress it in every rhyme written
Some niggas try trippin, walkin drive by grippin
Keep the 4-5 clippin, Never catch high and slippin
The kind of boss you might die if you try stickin
Same dude dat tried 2 hit n everytime miss me
I'm untouchable, Teflon bitch
See me comin through, You betta strap ya vest on qiuck
The rumor is, Gassed up on sum Exon shit
Not at all, Take a shot at paul teks gon spit

[Verse 4: Freck Billionaire]
I'm West Philly Freck, Yes I rock the best ice
I lay my track down like I'm tryin 2 catch mice
And you would think I went to fly skool
I'm fresh man like the 1st year of high school
Foreign vehicles, Yes I could get em homes
2 of everything, Yes I get em cloned
Ya meet Jamiaca if ya play with my chest
Testerosa, Testaverde man I play in them jets(Freck)
I fuck dime bitches, I'm a dime pitcher
My [? ] is older than ya prom picture
I take it back, Got the barkley's with the strap
Red nose pit, Shit barkin with the strap
Work in the hood, Lone sharkin with the crack
I stay away from known snitches narcin in the trap
Niggas getiin tats tryin 2 make they faces scary
I shoot ya tear drop nigga, Like Jason Terry
64 Chevy, Jus got it laced in cherry
Red wheels 2, Don't bring no hatin near me
To keep it real, I'm just glad to be here,
Ya'll frown on the ground, We laugh in the lair
Niggas throw shade at us cause they mad at the glare
Ya hear clappin like the Hova show at madison square
Yea dis how I eat now, See they got 2 pay homes
I make my change in the booth, I'm like a pay phone
I'm a slim thug, The bossman fellas
Ya'll nigga like L.A., Ya'll loss n jealous
Check it the ver 2, My phone cost 11 thou
You betta warn a brother like Kevin Lowes
You lookin at a nigga who den sold cane
I put the purple in the air like soul plane
Rap niggas thinkin like damn, What kinda lane he in
Switch the black card from plastic 2 titanium
I spit the "A" class lines, They spit "B" shit
Spit that "B" shit, Ya never gon be shit
See how I "C" shit, I bone with the "D' shit
Got plenty bitches down in Philly on that "E" shit
I say "F" niggas cause I'm on sum "G" shit