DJ Khaled — No Hook

[Intro: Jim Jones] Jones! You understand what's going on right now? Dipset, Bird Gang, some real Geed up shhit Listen 305, all the way to the top Eh Khaled, what's good? [Verse 1: Jim Jones] Rocks like bolder game Crazy upstate Test the Rolls in the lane, racing up the A We betting thousands on street corners Roll the dice with police on us Slow like the Henesy Cold tonight, need the seat warmers [?] slice [?] [?] 4 door, welcome [?] Heavy supercharger Goods, no war That's for beginners, I'm living like a winner [?] [Verse 2: Styles P] You don't want a robbery, nobody trying me Looking for some good in me, lil bit of god in me Right now, whole lotta shit startin to bother me Wanna see some vains spilled, shit load of arteries Any rap motherfucker tryna say they hard as me Tell the truth, I don't know why these niggas start with me I been in it now, fuck a semi Get a rocket launcher, I better shoot your Bentley or your hand me downs Khaled, you should warn them niggas, ad an extra listen on 'm Then figure out who make the paper that say "missing" for 'm Layin on the top, bigger than a fishing form Go and get your whole crew, round up the craziest Send them here, I'll send them back and show you what the raiser did We ain't getting paper nigga, you can meet your maker nigga Turn you purple and yello, just like a laker nigga [Verse 3: Cassidy] Any cat that rap, step to me, I'd catch a felony I just beat a murder, what the fuck these niggas telling me? I'm not into this rap shit, practicing infedelity These [?] I could still sell a key I'm the hustler motherfucker, I could sell a tree To the forest, the hardest niggas is with me Mad cause they money is funny like Bill Belomy And wanna put a shell in me, dog but it's all jealousy You smellin me, but you refuse to diss me Cause I keep a tool that could fuckin remove a kidnie I keep a 9, the same kind Shyne used for Diddy Plus I keep the chopper, it pop when I crues the city Just in case a nigga get wreckliss, try to test this And I gotta knock out his breakfast out his intestines Said I'm on his death list, I don't care what niggas bout If I hear a nigga mouth, then Imma air a nigga out [Verse 4: Rob Cash] My bro Khaled said "bring the heat", birds think I got it, sweet Cause I rode with Pistol Pete, my shit complete I don't take it, I make it, but you can't You can't slip, can't even kiss a freak in your Benz Please don't try to preach You couldn't even last a week in these damb streets Cause you'll catch dots on your face, like acney Do this shit for fun, you better run like a track meet Cause you don't want the gun dumped on your tung like ass cheaks