Yeah, it's the Profit, it's the Profit
East Coast, West Coast, come down selector, see it
Latino Market, you know we got that shit in Memphis
You writin' them checks, go holla at my boy Damon
All my niggas, throw your dubs up
If you ain't from the Westside, put your guns up
Let a shot go, nigga, squeeze and pop
Let them feel it when the bassline drop
And all my bitches, throw you're hands up
You in the club with you're girls, call your man up
'Cause you ain't comin' home, mami
Breathe and stop, exhale when the bassline drop
Aiyyo, there's murder on the streets
Killa capital, I’m blastin' you
For the love of this dough, that’s what I have to do
I'm posted up, corner king, they named me Coka
Got caught, didn't say a thing, you're not supposed to
La Costa Nostra, Gotti gang, my shotty ring
Call it a killer's exhibition, let the body hang
A real work of art, show your heart, I blow you smart
Yeah, it's the ghetto god, rep the Bronx 'til I'm gone
Was sent to prison, you know me, homie, the chromey's itchin'
Leave you holy if you rollin' with some bad intentions
Fit the pussy, then again you know that
And we don't never see him in the hood and he owe rats
Joey don't give a fuck, told my nigga hold that
Usually found in the kitchen, where the stove at?
Got that weed, got that coke, get them dopes sacks
My little man pitchin', yeah, we call him Sandy Cossacks
All my niggas, throw your dubs up
If you ain't from the Westside, put your guns up
Let a shot go, nigga, squeeze and pop
Let them feel it when the bassline drop
And all my bitches, throw you're hands up
You in the club with you're girls, call your man up
'Cause you ain't comin' home, mami
Breathe and stop, exhale when the bassline drop
Lord of war, you need a hammer, I’ll sell you guns
Sell coke to Pablo, sell grammar to Pun
Stop searchin' niggas, I am the one
Pepper spray gangsters, show you how the iron is slung
Now I could play like Kanye and let my chest hairs show
Put on them Kool Moe Dee glasses but that just ain’t Joe
Play shot and then I switch up the flow
Like what the blood glock, bumbaklaat, you ain't fuckin' with Joe
Now mama loves me, her friends hate me
Jealous 'cause they boyfriends ain’t me
We gettin' that baby love, yeah, we pain free
Ain't nobody pocket certain here, we paid G's
Now listen up, you in love with a stripper
I fuck her and diss her
I give her that mayo, you come and you kiss her
Nigga, Crack been a G ever since
Sit back and watch the money get bricks, muh'fucker
All my niggas, throw your dubs up
If you ain't from the Westside, put your guns up
Let a shot go, nigga, squeeze and pop
Let them feel it when the bassline drop
And all my bitches, throw you're hands up
You in the club with you're girls, call your man up
'Cause you ain't comin' home, mami
Breathe and stop, exhale when the bassline drop
Coka, Game, the gangsta gangsta
TA, what's up, nigga? I see you, nigga
New York, Killa capital, Cali, Killa-Cali, nigga
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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