Pre-Game

[Sauce Money] I lay my gun fine, ideas be as bright as the sunshine Shook the rap game with just one line When me and my niggaz combine, all day, you know what? Sometimes, I run with mad niggaz who done time Hit you with eight, from one nine, now you showin the vein My shells is like information, go in your brain Holdin my slug, before you squeeze em show em the love Burn your fingertips so throw em a glove, understand me Before my album drop, cop the Grammy, uncanny Bought my first Role' from Manny Dirty burners my crew never hand me, nigga we family You not, get shot, get caught slippin like Dexter Manley with at least ten lead, spray right, paint your skin red Damn we, all the shit you can't be We big time, you small time, real small like how an ant be Marcy, bust a shot for Metcalf, Tilo and Danny Peace to the Bureils, Cut Wop and Stanley Boom Moet and bow, my whole set is wild Past threats, frontin flash singles and that's bent Fuck a bitch, you know the drill Cut a chick or a suck a dick [Jay-Z] Jigga, what the fuck? As a youth explosively, clappin off the roof Shootin guard like Kobe, raised up slay smears and bo'e Back then, Gil was my codiene, Spanish Jose showed me how to get the money niggaz owed me Fast forward, no kids, six cars and three Role's Two cribs, trips to Cuba, sippin on Uba Got rap in a stupor, first to clap your group up from the Range with the ski rack, or six with the Ruger Shit, I light the motherfuckin soundproof booth up New shit, why'all say the same shit like you're looped up Your rap's all lazy, Jigga the Black Scorcese What your album lack is more Jay-Z Code name: Jay-hovah, all praise me Why'all don't paint pictures, why'all all trace me You've yet to see the day when my squad be done I represent that shit nigga, Marcy son, what?