Lyrics:

(Sheek Louch)
I don't care what your new shit did, I'm a god
You been on my dick since you was a kid
And I ain't never fall off, I got greater
Took it as constructive criticism instead of calling you hater
After that I made more hits, made more knocks
While you was talking 'bout the LOX, I had the Range on your block
While you was sleeping on the floor, I was out on tour
Hittin' the stage, getting head from some European whore
I'm like 'please girl don't you cry'
Momma said 'trust nobody' before she died
Count your money, grab your gun before you go outside
If you see me with that mask, bitch you better hide
What y'all niggas wanna do
We smack niggas and leave welts
Strip niggas for fake chains and fake belts
Please, girl don't you cry

(Sheek Louch)
Please, girl don't you cry
Please, girl don't you cry

(Jadakiss)
Yeah, in the ranks they tryna move up
Right now in the game, sonically screwed up
Everybody bouncing or they boo'd up
I squeeze my shit till the handles chewed up
Straight insubordination, cocaine crusades, heroin off vacations
Black tape on a old shotty
My rap resume a wrap around your whole body
Legend is a understatement
Till they find your whole crew individually under basements
You just run your block, we run the nation
Pistols in the air, that's gun inflation
If it ain't David or Shawn, they under Jason
The ability to get it usually comes with patience
I got the G's on my side, no women or kids so baby please don't cry

(Sheek Louch)
Please, girl don't you cry
Please, girl don't you cry

(Styles P)
Bringing the gun in the Devil's den
Think about heaven in hell, laying his medicine
Deep in the [?], my brothers keeper, that's evident
Brothers got seeds to feed, no hesitants
Takes a village to raise a child, grimey niggas to raise a foul
I was eating niggas food but none of it was for Halal
You don't like me, you can get in the line leaving a pal
With a bunch of snake niggas that wasn't even allowed
Stay high cause a serpent can never hide in the cloud
Please girl don't you cry
I'm outside with my 9 and my .45
Papaya-colored Porsche won't be puff smoke
Shoot the face of a cut throat
Now, I gotta hide in
Call my home in like please girl don't you cry

(Sheek Louch)
Please, girl don't you cry
Please, girl don't you cry