Lyrics:

Yeah, F-50

As times go by, I twist the lah
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gon' die
You think I'm off point 'cause you see me gettin' high
But my knife'll have your ass seein' out one eye
As times go by, I twist the lah
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gon' die
You think I'm off point 'cause you see me gettin' high
But my knife'll have your ass seein' out one eye

The 740 I, with the brand new shape (Uh huh)
Got me pissin' on hoes like the R. Kelly tape
If you see me in the club, nothin' but Cris poppin' (Yeah)
See me in court, my lawyers plea bargainin' (Woo)
Tryna turn a three to six, to a two to four (Uh-huh)
Or one to three, for an extra G
RIP to Etho, I miss Kevo
When I die, I hope Heaven look like the ghetto (Yeah)
Picture me trick, and take your loss
I'm cheap like the Chinese man with duck sauce
This Tony, homey, I walk around with a big chrome-y
Nine L's will hit ya passenger and hit ya driver
G-Unit, you don't know a fuckin' clique liver
You heard my nigga, you don't know a fuckin' clique liver

As times go by, I twist the lah
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gon' die (Yeah)
You think I'm off point 'cause you see me gettin' high
But my knife'll have your ass seein' out one eye (Eye)
As times go by, I twist the lah
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gon' die
You think I'm off point 'cause you see me gettin' high
But my knife'll have your ass seein' out one eye

I never mix money and product with my friends (Uh huh)
'Cause chips make relationships come to an end (What!)
I play the graveyard shift, gettin' money non-stop (Uh huh!)
And been on the block, ever since bunny tops (C'mon)!
Two hundred and fifty grizzies, scrape the plate (Scrape the plate)
Got me on seven-fifties scrapin' the plate (Scrapin' the plate)
You can call on your soldiers, call your recruits (Uh huh)
I do you dirty like Bishop did Raheem in Juice
Allow myself to introduce myself
It's Tony, the talk of New York, I'm holdin' the belt
I got thug in my blood (Blood), game like a pimp (Pimp)
And wrote my first verse takin' baths in the sink (Yeah!)
And yo I fear no man son, I never heard of a fair one
Never gotta borrow a handgun
Niggas on the street, gettin' smoked like grandson
So I stay dirty like Sanford and Son (Yeah!)
Groupies gossipin' stay runnin' they lips (Woo!)
'Cause they seen the Gucci seats in the six (Uh huh)
And seen the Fendi grips on the four fifth (What)
Shit, I sell bricks, shit, I sell shit on a stick
Enough of the talkin', let's take it to the violence (Uh huh)
The New York streets, will leave you physically silenced
Don't be surprised, If I spit at you
Then come to your wake and serve fiends at your funeral
My advance is goin' towards a brick of dope
'Cause I've been goin' hand and hand since Different Strokes
I'm a fifty a haze, you a half a blunt
You the nigga in the mirror that practice stunts, what! (Pussy)