Fabolous, Joe Budden, Ransom, Paul Cain, Hitchcock, Stack Bundles - Money, Power, Respect Freestyle lyrics

They call me F-A-Beezy, sometimes Stizzo
The wrist on freezy, neck on glizzo
The coupe move easy at two double-izzo
Truck look cheezy
And it's jacked up like it sit on stilettos
Can't you see the glit' on the
Pebbles that sit on the bezel
None of you little scraps couldn't
Get on my level take more than a hot song to
Try to sit on the devil
Got respect when I killed "Money
Power" the first time
When they tried to knock down
The towers the first time
And the only reason I'm talking 'bout it
Is so you know the real talk
Of New York's about it i'm with a bitch
With a tight ass that shakes
Her suck game will one
Gulp: White Castle shakes
Got the home right past the lake


When I came home they stop us
This time might blast the jake
I'm the nigga on the couches in clubs
And I stand out from the rest
Of the slouchers and scrubs
Bottles and bottles with a
Train of pretty hoes
That look like they could be
The mains in videos
We in the caps with the Yankee logos
Blowing on the stanky dro dro
The pinky snow-globe
And you know the link be so "oh"
Niggas look fast but the blinks be slow-mo
I could spot a kinky ho though
All hood bitch
She just tryna make you think she SoHo
Plus I know the game like the back of my hand
When I'm lazy
You can catch me in the back of sedans
When I'm gone
You can bet I'm coming back with a tan
With the Mickey D signs on
The back of my pants
And I act like the man, 'cause this my time
Plus the hood say they miss my dimes
It's young money

All you see me with is Coogi
Dogs and long chains
Fucking with some bougie broads
With long brain
Plus now I'm usually calm, the storm came
But still keep a toolie on like John Wayne
Catch me in the kitchen
Dope bricks on the fire
Them niggas that be spittin
Those pricks is some liars
Never been pitchin, sold clips to them buyers
Me? I hang on the block like
Broke kicks on the wire
The kid is so nasty with it
Copped a new Benz and only
Paid half to get it
I'm a gorilla that had to get classy with it
Your dumb bird gave me head
Because Fab was with us
Could care less who your bitch be feeling
I'm in a loft with nice
Floors and crispy ceiling
As long as I get it
Off and get these millions
I retire to smoke weed like Ricky Williams

Now your cake is gone
Niggas wanna hate the Storm
Cause they know my team reign surpreme
And I'm Jason Bourne catch a case Im gone
Just another face to mourn
Stay down 'fore the tre-pound
Leave your face deformed
Listen pal, you ain't really pitching vials
Just wanna rap back and forth
Like 'Kiss and Styles every other day
You could say I be switching dials
Fourty-grand, fifty-thou
And I got the fifty-cal
It's Hitchcock, Hannibal of rap
You ain't gotta see a show
To see an animal attack
Im an animal a warrior in fact
With tre snubs
Repping A-dub in the corner with gats
And Im in a fast car, with a crash bar
Built in the dash part sorta like Nascar
Outlast yall because I treat the
Track like a cell phone
I burn it down to the last bar

You're welcome
You ain't gotta thank me for what
I did to the mixtapes
Make sure the labels get my shit straight
You ain't gotta pat me on the back (back)
Just pack me in that 'Bach ('Bach)
With a dime
Fine wine and some blinds in the back
Curtains is too extra
Though the silk shirt's fucking
With my chest hairs
I'm in love with the texture
The gorgeous one has spoken
Clear stones in his hair
Pink in his eyes like Jesus has awoken
It's all in the belt buckle
A mansion in that
And if you call shorty, buckle
Just imagine the neck
And the trousers Mugler, the shoes is Maury
These rap niggas startin to bore me
Most MCs square
So the button-up's MC squared
I'm insulted when they offer me ears
The babes want me in
And you know the boys want me in states
I'm retiring pyrex - call me Seymour Cake!

Now niggas say they in the
Hood like Mister Softee
They in the hood getting
Treated like Mister Softie
"I clap the four-fifth", if you believe that
Then you believe Rick James
Died of natural causes
I'm twisting up trees-chronic to
Switching up ebonics
Started in the fifth grade
Switching up etonics
Know a few dudes that'll spit at your dome
So go see 'em if you
Really want invisible stones
Try and get at me to hit him
Just type forty acres and a
Mule in your navi system
My hood they kidnapping your kids
See, we try and Tom Cruise
And Jamie what collateral is
Whack dudes in the game is a problem
But they like Maurice Malone jeans
Their name will stay on the bottom
Murdering that? Nah, heard him, he's sub par
Coyote Ugly rappers
Keep working at your bars

Cain got the heart of a soldier
Mind of a general
Strategy is important, timing is critical
We wear tracks out, lyrically I'm a beast
From Brooklyn's backbone
Epitome of the streets
Only the strong survive
If you physically weak
You get gunbutted, stabbed, shot
And critically beat 'Cause listen
Ain't no shook hands in Brooklyn
Presidential with the matching
Bullet bracelet, it's a good look
Man
Call me whatever, I hustle and I rap a little
You see the color stones chain look
Like a pack of Skittles i give 'em anthrax
Every bar is that official
I know I'm a gangster
I ain't got to pack a pistol
I don't rap in riddles, I give it to a nigga
Straight, no chaser
I'm like Hen' on the rocks
If it ain't the fifth
It's probably the Glock
I'm the nigga Clue and Duro call when
They need the bodies to drop
If it ain't the chain
It's probably the watch
When I ride if it ain't the truck or sedan
It's probably the drop
Play the block, I don't party a lot
I'm the one who sent the goon with the
Snub to get the jewels from the club
I could never blow all my dough
When I get at least ten people
Robbed at all my shows
And all I know: money, clothes, birds
And cars
Running from Po's, champagne, furs, and R's
Quite sure you must've heard of the God
If not I'm Cain, Triangle Offense
I'm a third of the squad
I'm the first line of the defense
The star point guard is back starting
Y'all be used to riding the bench
Fuck that "no women, no kids" shit
When the shotty blows, everybody goes
Business is business
But dig this, fuck a guilty conscience
I'll put a slug in you
Really give you something to live with
Fuck street fighting
I pull a hammer in a split second
The kid breathe fire, and speak lightning
These niggas ain't writing
All they did was analyze my flow, and
Use my style so their liking, nigga

Now the year's new, I laid my game flat
I want my spot back, take two, motherfucker