Tha Truth back, let's get to bidness

It's something unfamiliar

Call it a foreign image

Paint heavily leaking

I guess it wasn’t finished

Riding with something freaky

They tell me she the business

The chain clear, stones never cloudy

60 rats or better, n***a ask about me

Certified gangsta, please don’t ever doubt me

Welcome to the streets

You can’t get in without me

I'm Presidential, Obama painted the Vogues black

Toping in the Chevy, top rollin' back

My life a motion picture, b-tch I ain't gotta act

I send em to your section, n-gga hold that

It's raining scattered bullets

Too late to run for cover, I drain em like Kobe

Then I evacuate to the gutter

On something that's pokey with looks

And a trunk they’d like to stutter

I rank as the king of the city

It ain't gon' be another,

(Inkredible, inkredible, inkredible, inkredible…)

I'm sending shots, it's happy hour

I shoot from close range, I'ma need a shower

Brains in the sink, body on the counter

Women and the kids, leave em how I found em

I’m a real n-gga, stand still n-gga

I cut ya face, have ya lookin' like Seal n-gga

Then I pull ya card, then I deal witcha

Gamble witcha life, is this your lucky night

My B***h so f-cking right, every night I f-ck her twice

Big boy money b-tch pockets on Charlie Wise

Tatted up, I’m scarred for life

Tell the cops I know all my rights

Got choppas I don't mean Harley bikes

Drop me like a bag of ice

Shades dark, flag bright

Wallet chain, chrome horse

Hair to the f**king back, call that sh-t Rosa Parks

Dr. Carter man I gave hip-hop open heart

Young Money baby aka Noah's Ark

Ahaha

And I'm Noah!

YOUNG MULA BABY

My money long, my temper short

My cars foreign my d-ck a boss

The guns new, the beef old

I'ts time to come through like never before

Liquid C4, look at me hoe

Look into my eyes do you see a C.O?

I'm talking kilo’s, time to reload

(Creole words) – 'Shut the f-ck up' in Creole

Bitch I’m paid up, get ya weight up

Pillow top back, realest shade up

I got them automatics so you know I'm automatic

All my auto’s automatic you know that's automatic

What you n-ggas wanna see

Don't get caught in the street

I got G’s that’ll wait for a quarter key, n-gga

I'm living n-gga

F**k the critics n-gga (f-ck em)

Shit is serious n-gga

You hear the lyrics n-gga (Yep!)

It's Ricky n-gga