Verse 1:
I keep my head straight to let these mothafuckas know
dat i'm a soilder and I got sumn that these mothafuckas don't
write a rap, ley 'em flat, make a track, get a stack
fuck the hatas man, tell 'em send me all my CD's back
I ain't fuckin with this game to make these dumb bitches dance
I ain't fuckin with this game to get in these dumb bitches pants
I get my 10 G's advance to smack bitches through the glass
You get your 10 G's advance for gettin fucked in the ass
roll with a couple of dudes, skinny white boy with muddy shoes
clearin out this game, fight back the evil that money roots
Young Franchise, bitch, you could sit a on a shelf
I won't hurt you, spit a freestyle and shit on yourself
your bitin' 20 Grand like nobody could tell
and that's the only thing they pay attention to,
you think it gon' help?
14 years old, I'll burn your ass like a Bic
and blow your ass through your mouth so you can talk that shit
Chorus:
I ain't a snitch (naw)
I ain't a punk (naw)
This is for the people on the curb slangin drugs
(Raise Up!)
I ain't a bitch (naw)
I ain't your friend (naw)
This is for the people who be standin in the end
(Raise Up!)
