The Victory 2007

[Intro]
If I made a title that offend the whole industry
Would y'all say my title in your interviews?
If I came out dissin everyone of y'all
Would I sell as much records as these other dudes?
If I said I was retirin but never left
Would y'all show me love when I come back?
If I ran the streets for the past two years
Would you respect me or would you say fuck Pap!!!

[Verse 1]
Yo where my thugs at? cock your guns back
My headphones ain't loud, yo turn up the track
Ok bump that, homey I run rap
I add on to the game you niggas subtract
Yo where my Bloods at? throw it up brrappp!!!!!!
Yo where my Cuz at? he cut you cut 'em back!
They say they tough cats, but they some rugrats
I drop 'em off on the block and make 'em pump packs
Owe me couple stacks, he tried to duck Pap
I sent a shot at his ass and told him duck that

[Hook]
Aiyyo bump that, bump this, stay high, what's this?
He broke, he rich, homey we run this
It's a new era your heart pumpin in fear
Two thousand and seven the god number is here
Bump that, bump this, stay high, what's this?
He broke, he rich, homey we run this
It's a new era your heart pumpin in fear
Two thousand and seven the god number is here

[Verse 2]
The stronger I become, the more y'all weaken
So when im in full power you 'gon be a weaklin
If my heart still beatin and my lungs still breathin
My brains still thinkin ain't none of y'all eatin
Over my dead body and my blood still bleedin
I'm a, rap rebel, clap with black medal
Look into my eyes realize what Pap symbol
Lies the wiseguy pride is that visual
Nah I don't slap high five with you outside guys
That's not my vibe, your just not my size, I cocked my nine
Cats got nine lives, get shot five times I cock pistols
Back and clap missles, black it's that simple

[Hook]
Bump that, bump this, stay high, what's this?
He broke, he rich, homey we run this
It's a new era your heart pumpin in fear
Two thousand and seven the god number is here
Bump that, bump this, stay high, what's this?
He broke, he rich, homey we run this
It's a new era your heart pumpin in fear
Two thousand and seven the god number is here

[Verse 3]
Hate when the cops keep printin me, each of them bums
Bendin up my index finger and squeezin my thumb
Im lookin at 'em hopin he'll get it done
Them new finger printin machines in the precinct is dumb
Through the speakers I come, with the weed in my lungs
You ever ran into your enemy deep in the slums?
They schemin on you and you schemin on them
Then you realize nigga who you be with is one
Hell of a big pussy why you beefin with son?
He keep tappin you tellin you they reach for a gun
But he lyin he just lookin for a reason to run
Ever catch you on the block like you slingin some chums
I beat you like them African boys be beatin them drums
Why would I start eatin with them and they starvin?
Might as well say I'm feedin these bums
I don't like them niggas I be talkin greasy to them
They say Pap a slick talker that boy got grease on his tounge
I'm the real beast from the east, I'm not done
The most official spittin, the swift musician that's if you listen
It's a simple mission if his crew missin that's his decision
Cause my intuition and inner vision is benefitin
All my men and women who doin bids in the mental prison
But if you wishin to get the grippin and since you trippin
We gone blast till it's the endin clash with quick collision
Cut your from ear to ear give incisions
Eat your food like it's nutrition
Fuck up your wig like sick morticians
I can give you wisdom cause it's tradition
But if you dissin I can switch positions
Put missiles in him with quick precision
I don't care if it's linin or if it's denim, I get the lemon
Squeeze, hit em my enemies rip up put venom in 'em
Lighly to hit the izzum
After I send you spinnin, find me back in the restaraunt readin the menu grinnin