[Intro: Dom Pachino]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh-huh...
Pat 'em down... roll him over...
Make sure he clean... word...
Ain't nothing stopping us...
[Dom Pachino]
Aiyo, the industry can't lock 'em out, let 'em in, let 'em breathe
Let 'em meet, and let 'em feed, a grown man has a seed
Please don't make me squeeze, this filth penitentaries
Filled with young latin brothers, just like me
I'm on my way up to the top, ain't no stopping me
Niggas getting dropped, and stop it, I get it popping
Like Snapple caps, ain't no turning back, it's on
That's word to my first born
Ever since my first song, I had to go strong
SoundScan at half a mil', I was just getting warm
Now that I'm heated up, ya'll niggas gon' eat it up
Verse for verse, plaque for plaque, the kid is back
But I never left, I was cooking shit up, like a chef
For a hood chemist, that cook crack on the scrimmage
I'm Dom P, look at me, fuck an image
I already loved, and if I got hate, it's some petty thugs
Not for made men, it's not rap, it's my testimony and my statement
I made much music plus toured the world
Some jail time, been shot and shot niggas
Seen real money, so there's not much that you can tell me, dunny
Unless you try'nna show me more, and that's exactly what I do it for
[Chorus 4X: Dom Pachino]
Can't call for back-up, bout to smash this game like a Mack truck
Making cash bucks, cash bucks
[Infinite]
Ain't buying what you saw, kid, why you next to me?
I'm higher what you thought, won't let 'em get the best of me
You cooked good, but I wrote the recipe
Been certified, on old concrete, no need for testing me
On everything I loved, joke, get stressed
Scoop with mami in the Landrove', you got the indo
Cool, let down your window, you can stack tools
Just do what I say so, yeah, uh-huh
Take my own advice, stacks for sure
Reason why you niggas sick, but I pack the cure
Vanessa, baby girl, I click-clack the four
Turn nothing to a prince, I crick-crack a jaw
Infinite, little nigga, yup, that's the law
Maryland to Manhattan, zip pack your raw
Infinite, little homey, yup, that's the law
Eastern Shore to Staten Isle, click-clack your door
[Chorus 4X]
[Dom Pachino]
My grass be, green as fuck (how you know?) ask them niggas I stuck
It was their product, they acting like they selling narcotics
If so, then we acting too, we the ATF, run up in your spot
And plus we, do it the best, who want come test?
Your revised team, how I know? Cuz I ran 'em through my screen
Plus they ran through the scene, cuz they know what I mean
Nuff, nuff, nuff session, nuff questions
Nuff shit, I can't mention, cuz you not brethren
And you don't ride with my engine
I'm so sincere, look at me, I'm not pretending
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