I got the Metro card, you got the Porsche
I got plaque in my wallet, you like to floss
I cop two Coronas and you buy out the bar
I represent hip-hop, who's the real star?
You got ghost writers and I spit from the cranium
You say you got guns, since 12 I've been aiming 'em
Before you went platinum you wasn't getting no ass
Now you sold out homie, now you given' em asses
Like I'm givin' a mass the way I preach to the choir
From the depths of hell I spit nothin' but fire
It's the goal of the streets, it's the passion in my heart
It's the pain and poverty that makes me rip tracks apart
I'm the truth when I step in the booth
When I'm rippin' the crowd
I'm taking over the industry
I'm airing 'em out
Nothing to lose 'cept my hat and my shoes
From a sinner to a winner now I just can't lose

Your cash ain't gonna help you if you ain't quick on the trigger
Your name is big, but my pull is bigger
I go hard, I go hard
When the chips are down, you won't see me coming
By the time you turn around, your whole crew is runnin'
I go hard, I go hard