(feat. Lord Tariq) 

[Tommy Gibbs] 
Times be desperate, spit ya best shit 
In this business, on some life or death 
I've been high in these streets, cried in these streets 
Willing, but I'm trying not to die on these streets 
Got my mind on my stack, vibe on a track 
Hang with them cats that twist niggas back 
Gibbs moves state to state, cakin a stash 
I sware, trying to watch them there, don't wanna crash 
Destination far, got killas in the car 
Minute we touch down, niggas know who we are 
Bubble in the spot, till it get too hot 
And then we blowin that one horse town back on the block 
In the mix, my click stay back to back 
We gon' the metal clap, till the shit jump back 
Guarantee to get wet, when my bronze connect 
Make moves when it's on, straight bomb ya set 

[Chorus x2: Both] 
Gibbs and Tariq 
Got ya scared to speak 
Cuz when it pop, ya might not drop 
But you gon leak 
Ready to die, two of the best from NY 
Niggas feelin theyselves, it's welcome to try 

[Lord Tariq] 
The name of the father, son, holy ghost and spirit 
If it's rhymes, I'mma spit it, Dutch, I'mma split it 
Cash we gonna get it, Coke money to credit, we do it to debt it 
These rules and bet it, Loan to Tommy Gibbs, 
by any means get cream 
Nigga mob we is, BX to Queens 
Give a fuck about the set you screen, the set you ream 
Cuz when I wave this motherfuckin tech you lean 
Logic, we in it for the prophet 
Won't stop less the barricade, the white stone and cars lit 
Hot shit, we spit, got shit to get 
Doin are own thing, 90 in a slow lane 
Smoke the cocaine, trying to own things 
In a Jag, bumpin Cuban, you own grown things 
Two of the illest niggas, ain't shit gon' change 
For this paper, I split ya brains, so get your things 

[Chorus x2] 

[Tommy Gibbs] 
Bet it all on we, watch us push red line on these niggas 
Bring the whole squad, go hard on these niggas 
Ain't thinkin bout the law, just walk up to they door 
Beat them to the jaw, heat them to the floor 
Stop till they drill and they wrists is locked 
Funny how they ain't go no more shit to pop 
Make it hot for the paper, you drop for the paper 
Run up in your spot, twin glocks for the paper 

[Lord Tariq] 
Drug caper in the rap game, quick to pull a swami 
Met up with my O.Y.G. niggas in Miami 
Die for the cause together nigga we family 
They can't stand me, thugs up for a Grammy 
Feds wanna snatch me, they caught works and scriptures 
Think I don't see them in the club takin pictures 
Call the phone, hang up, times they say "We gonna get ya" 
If the studios bugged, with all respect 
Get off my dick son 

[Chorus x2]