Intro

Niggas told me you can't go to war ’til you get your money right nigga
Well I done got with the money team
Trick Daddy told me I can talk my shit
Touche told me I can talk my motherfucking shit nigga
Slip-N-Slide records we the motherfucking mob nigga
Mike Smiff, Mr. Florida, Mr. Down South Dade County Turnpike South Exit 6 bitch
M.I.A.M.I. we got the motherfucking streets now nigga yes sir
Touche, Trick yall put yall feet up, I got this shit
Right hand on a stack of Bibles, I will slap the shit out of one these bitch-ass niggas
Dade county, we back yes sir

Reporting live from the dope whole
Nigga M.I.A. we got the streets in a choke whole
Fuck nigga where that money at
Look me in my eyes, welcome to the mind of a maniac
Man, I just don't give a fuck
Take me to any 'hood, drop me off, I’m 'a run it up
I'm a motherfucking rider
A hustler, go-getter, survivor

I understand ain't nobody finna give me shut
Dropped out of high school went to drilling shit
Young niggas slanging hammers like I'm building shit
Murder one ain't nothing, I'll kill a bitch
Went to jail, told the judge I was innocent
Kept my mouth closed nigga, I was militant
My whole team got federal indictments
Bitch you couldn't walk a mile in these Nikes

Still in the streets
Still got that fie stuff down in my briefs
Still with the smoke
My nigga still in the ’hood still selling dope
We ain’t going back broke
Nigga how would you react with your back to the ropes
Niggas already know
I done been in that pressure and ain't never fold

Slip-N-Slide over anything
We don’t rock tight shirts we don't rock skinny jeans
Still let our pants sag
Nigga pocket full of racks, nigga we don't rock man bags

Finna take it back to the streets
I might rock dickies all week
I might go and buy a Benz
I might mask up and break Buddy Roe out the pen

This that Miami knight shit
That convertible Bert Rick Brownlee and Ike shit
Bo Diddly, Bunky Brown, and Pop Young
Ump Jr Walker, and Sunny Bun
Uncle Al would be proud of me
In a Chevy with a 3.5 on that loud on me
Riding 'round with my music up booted up
Nigga run up on me I’m 'a shoot 'em up

Real niggas in the building, nigga what it do
Bitch I'm Mike Smiff, who the fuck is you?
You ain't talking about money, it don't matter
Young niggas in the field like a cattle
Nigga we ain't scared of nothing but a gavel
A nigga still will never snitch, never tattle
Always got fire like a candle
Always got a bag like Santa

Big guns, quarter keys, and lawyer fees
Alcoholics, dead bodies, and narcotics
Nigga, I done seen it all
I done seen it all
I just want to ball
I just want to ball

Run it up, run it up, run it up nigga
A quarter million dollars ain't enough nigga
We need Ms on Ms on Ms
I'm trying to pull up in the foreign with the rims
R.I.P. Rey Day got damn
He was there when I was shooting in the gym

I done lost a whole lot
My word my balls and this Glock all I got
Can't stop 'til I make it to the top
Can't stop 'til my pockets full of knots
Redrum got sticks for the opps
Riding around with them brooms and them mops

I do it for the gangstas and the thugs
I do it for the niggas in the mob
I do it for all the single mothers
I do it for the people in the struggles
I do it for the dealers and the strippers
I do it for the smugglers and the [?]
I do it for the niggas in the pen
Slip-N-Slide Records we gon' get it in

Ain't got a job but I'm finna go to work
Nigga intervene, we gon' put him in a hearse
We finna lock this rap shit down
Came for the check, we ain't come to play 'round
We got the heat, we got the streets
You don't fuck with us nigga you ain't finna eat
Pussy-ass nigga, get down or lay down
Y'all niggas name don't hold weight now

Hate it or love it, the underdogs on top
We the big black rock wilders on the block
Eyes low looking like I just woke up
Team full of hittas, who the fuck want what
Big bucks, big cars, big trucks
Ninty six Tupac hit 'em up
Mike Smiff putting it all on the line
And Slip-N-Slide finna shine like it's ninty nine lil bitch