Shea

[Intro: Richard Pryor in The Mack]
'Cause I ain't running no motherfuckin' place 'cause I ain't no track star

[Verse: Jay Bel]
Yeah, smugglers at it for the bag
Get the sample, then we chop it in half
Shit like butter and some bread, we use a Fed
Prolly better off dead
Time is well spent, the fire's gettin' fed, yeah
[?] I'm such a monster, like I'm hidin' under beds
A lion in the den
You lookin' tiny, dog, a spider on the web
Talkin' tough, send a line to your head
Like I reclined you in the chair
We waitin', niggas dying for air
Me and Trav flipped the shit like of bag of them bricks
Long chop, wires make sure that the package you lit
Then send it out, here's a batch of that shit
But, keep it low, you don't even know the half of the kit
We get high, still ain't gas in the bitch
The shit sound like we baggin' up the sniff shit, thick
Just might damage your wrist, can't handle the whip
The cook too strong, the book too thick
Don't look too long, might turn you to stone
Get second-hand smacked over the dome
You far away from home, nigga, we been out