Hold His Own

Yo, yo

What, what

Wanna bounce?

Come on, come on

What, what

Bounce, bounce

Check it out y'all

Yo, you see the Benz I'm in, with BBS rims

Playing Lil' Kim's part off The Benjamins

I ain't a player, I just wear Tims

No need for gators, my feet can't swim

I'm in Reno, Nevada, sippin' a pena colada

How many niggas can see Montanna?

This movie's killin' and budgin'

Women love me in polo jeans and rugbys

You can hate it or love it, imiatate it or dub it

Compared to us, niggas ain't nuttin'

It's funny how niggas get paid for frontin'

Glorifying crimes, and they ain't done 'em

My rhymes'll split 'em like pimpin', Dom P sippin'

I'm not a baller, haven't even lived it

Women callin', since my days in the crib crawlin'

I plan to live enormous

I live nike dunks, icey chunks

A fly wifey I can trust

Not that she gon' wanna hesit me for re-up

I might be, Iron Mike if you try to entice me

I say this politely, tell it to a friend

Hard from the start, get money to the end

What up with Cormega? Did you see him?

Leanin' in the BM with the rim's gleamin'

Mega gonna hold his own

He always knew he could do it alone

And when he rhymes

Everybody's gonna know

Yo, I write rhymes for the flyest whips, finest chicks

And any rappin' nigga that thinks he's as nice as this

See me chillin' in clubs with women and thugs

Whoever wanna test this, we fill 'em with slugs

My jewlery gliestenin', rhymes usually sickenin'

Game like Fab 5 at Michigan, you listening?

Pimps, I bust 'em, niggas, don't trust 'em

Snitches, don't want 'em in my shit

We in a tunnel, buyin' mo' by the bundle

You know when we come through, get it right

But dead? right, techs spit nice

I know where you read my man was jessying your wife

I suggest you chill unless you ill enough to test the skill

That I possess niggas, for real

I'm the last of the mohecans, rhyme ill flow lethal

Due to magazines, there's no equal

No sequel to my flow evil, deletin' your people

We through seein' time, you're see-through

Nas off the meter, rhyme for the Beamers

Roll wit' overacheivers, my people, my people from madenas

Where you at dime-peices, fly features?

Lookin' so right my man is dying to meet ya

I know your baby dad just buying you sneakers

But I'm a keep it real, I ain't cheap

Check it out

Yo, to the haters, lovers, thug baby mommys

Walk around me tryin' to play stuck-up

See me in a ride and wanna say "what's up?"

I put my foot and the gas and tell they ass "tough luck"

I don't start beef, I finish it

My enemies hearts diminishin'

Before a rapper had dough, you didn't

You a pathetic nigga, first it was Biggie and Pac

Now you jealous of Jigga

You like a breast implant, fake on the inside

You nice, let's battle for dough Mr. Big-Time

On Hot 97, or live at Envy's

I can ass-bend you and still leave with 10 g's

Too real for you, what you dream I live and breath

Whoever wanna intervene, come on, get your team

And I'm a show you who the illest

'Cause everybody know who the realest

Now feel it