Intro
I had five hundred grams in fiftyfifty-eight bags Four-hundred Benz eight-thousand in cash. Then the ball dropped, GUN POPPED! - Bank$ got blast! I make it so HOT! - One shot’ll melt your ass! GOT POPPED UP! - Probably till my eyes turned red Told myself in the mirror nigga you ain’t dead! I’m far from eccentric, I’m so PSYCHOTIC I don’t need you to shoot for me, nigga I GOT IT! When you see me in the hood muhfucker don’t talk to me! ‘Less you wan’ talk about usin’ a Hawk for me. When Al blew Black away I had ‘em on some stupid shit Then my rap shit WORKED! - Now I’m super stupid rich! All I do is stunt now! - I’m so Maybach! There I go frontin’ again I meant to say laid back! GO ‘HEAD! Move wreckless get banged for necklace I serve ‘em with the Semi feed ‘em a clip for breakfast.
Hard Knock Life
Yo yo yo. Check it out maaan! Chorus: It’s a hard knock life in the hood of Strai. Gunfights all night, not a lie. Fuck wit me, and you gonna die, cuz its a hard kocAk lige in the hood of Strai. From standin on the corners boppin to drivin some of the hottest cars New York has ever seen For droppin some of the hottest verses rap has ever heard From the dope spot, with the smoke Glock fleein the murder scene, you know me well from nightmares of a lonely cell, my only hell But since when y’all niggaz know me to fail? Fuck naw Where all my niggaz with the rubber grips, bust shots And if you with me mom I rub on your tits, and what-not I’m from the school of the hard knocks, we must not let outsiders violate our blocks, and my plot let’s stick up the world and split it fifty/fifty, uh-huh Let’s take the dough and stay
real jiggy, uh-huh And sip the Cris’ and get pissy-pissy Flow infinitely like the memory of my nigga Biggie, baby! You know it’s hell when I come through The life and times of Shawn Carter nigga Volume 2, y’all niggaz get ready. [Chorus] flow for those ‘dro’ed out; all my niggaz locked down in the ten by fo’, controllin the house We live in hard knocks, we don’t take over we borrow blocks Burn em down and you can have it back daddy, I’d rather that I flow for chicks wishin, they ain’t have to strip to pay tuition I see you vision mama, I put my money on the longshots All my ballers that’s born to clock Now Imma be on top whether I perform or not I went from lukewarm to hot; sleepin on futons and cots to King Size, dream machines, the green fives
I’ve seen pies let the thing between my eyes analyze life’s ills Then I put it down type braile I’m tight grill with the phony, rappers y’all might feel we homies I’m like still, y’all don’t know me, shit! I’m tight grill when my situation ain’t improvin I’m tryin to murder everything movin, feel me?! [Chorus] I don’t KNOW how to sleep, I gotta eat, stay on my toes Gotta a lot of beef, so logically, I prey on my foes Hustling’s still inside of me, and as far as progress you’d be hard-pressed, to find another rapper hot as me I gave you prophecy on my first joint, and y’all lamed out Didn’t really appreciate it, til the second one came out So I stretched the game out, X’ed your name out Put Jigga on top, and drop albums non-stop for ya, nigguh! [Chorus]
Treat You Nice
I’m a freak to the core Get a dose once, you gon’ want some more My tongue touch ya girl, ya toes bound to curl This exclusive shit I don’t share with the world I have you up early in the mornin, moanin Back shot, proper or low can’t stop us Been a fiend for this since Rakim made hits Chorus: I treat you nice. I do you twice. We go together like chicken & rice. You hot as fire, I’m cold as Ice. Love me girl, I treat you nice. Get the position down pat, then it’s time to switch I’ll rock the boat, I’ll work the middle I speed it up, straight beat it up.. .. and I ain’t in the hood with my toast out loc’n I’m in the telly workin up a sweat strokin Tonight’s the night, you can fall in love You can call your mama right now, tell her you met a thug I pop a lot of shit cause I can back it up My left stroke’s the death
stroke.
Pocket Fulla Dollars
Now I was bouncing through the club She loved the way I did it bout I see her boyfriend hatin’ like a city cop Now I ain’t never been a chicken but my fitty cocked Say I ain’t never been a chicken but my semi cocked Now where your bar at? I’m tryna rent it out And we so bout it bout it Now what are you about? DJ show me love, he say my name when the music stop 4618, Hardcore Mads, then the music drop I make it snow, I make it flurry I make it out alright tomorrow don’t worry Yeah, Young Mads on them hoes A.K.A. Mr. Make It Rain On Them Hoes Chorus: I got money in my pocket, I got dollars in the bag. I got bads full of money, I got pocket fulla dollars. x2 Here we go, one for the
money, two for the show Now clap your hands if you got a bank roll Like some clap on lights in this bitch I’ma be clapping all night in this bitch Lights off, man it’s on Creep saw me, she smiling He muggin’, who cares Cause my goons are right here It’s nothin’ to a big dog And I’m a Great Dane, I wear eight chains I mean so much ice, they yell, “Skate Mane!” She wanna f**k Me, see She wanna rape me, Mane. Chorus: Here we go, one for the money, two for the show Now clap your hands if you got a bank roll Like some clap on lights in this bitch I’ma be clapping all night in this bitch Lights off, man it’s on Creep saw me, she smiling He muggin’, who cares Cause my goons are right here Chorus.
Baby
I don’t play no game So when I’m in that thang Come see what I mean See what I mean, owww Said lil’ mama put me on Bet I’ll have you gone Come see what I mean See what I mean Come see waht I mean, come come come First it’s her neck, yeah then her back Yeah I’m a freak, I get into all that Girl I perform for ya, like a porno star Till ya had enough then I just need a little bit more New music new move new position New erotic sounds is goin down now listen I can hear your heartbeat, you’re sweatin I can paint a perfect picture I get deeper and deeper, I told ya I’ll get ya I work that murk that just the way ya like it baby Turn a quickie into an all nighter maybe Your sex drive it match my sex drive Then we be movin as fast as a
NASCAR ride Switch gears slow down, go down whoa now You can feel every inch of it when we intimate I’ll use my tongue baby, I’ll leave you sprung baby I’ll have ya head spinnin sayin Mads ya so crazy Chorus Girl I want you to give me what you got and give me more Girl you can start on top or on fours You know I like it, when you get into it Don’t nobody do it, uh, like I do it Feel the rush, from my touch, get intoxicated Drunk off my love, call the Hennesey thug Passion, ya laughin, I can make you smile on the regular Tell me what you want, shorty, that’s what I’ma get ya Yeah, I need you to be what I need, more than liquor or weed I need you to maybe give me a seed I need you to give me reason to breathe
I need you, I’m tellin this so you know what I need I’d be a part-time or fulltime lovers, a meant-to-be lover Don’t matter which way it go, I’m oh so gutta Girl you could get it however you wan’ get it I’m feelin you, still feelin you right now, get it Chorus
Do You Still Love Me
You think about money when you think about me huh, thats what my ex, my ex you don’t want to be her, she used to have the beemer, now she own a sneaker, i had her eating lobster now she eating pizza, i think about easter when I think about Keyshia, shorty stay fly thats why I keep her, round like the reefer, brown Mona Lisa, she good if I leave her she got her own visa, think about them when you about frontin think about stuntin when you think about me, im the boss bentley or the porsche, overseas jet skis slide across, i love the way you dress, now take it off, put your legs high on my shoulders across, Im racing through your mind but you already lost, im at the finish line and your the friend of mine, come on lets ride Do You Still love Me?
just a lil bit Do You Think About Me? every now and then Do You Still Love Me? god damn girl we used to be friends Do You Still Love Me? just a lil bit just a lil bit just a lil bit? I think like a hustler, Im thinking bout a shipment, She thinking im her hustle, So she thinking bout commitment, Its like paul Mc Cartney stuck in my head, Fell in love with a b-tch walked away with one leg, She aint even have to run to get away with the bread, Thats some f-cked up sh-t Think about that kid, Im thinking what this b-tch thinking when she take me to court, I pay my child support, what the f-ck she want, This relationship, shit its too much for me, I wanna f-ck your friends and live comfortably She wanna shine and blow minds on shopping sprees, She should have what she wants just not for me,
Im thinking bout my future she part of my past, She don’t care bout me she just want some cash, Im thinking damn girl, we used to be friends, How did sh-t become all about m’s Chorus
On My Way To Da Bank
[Intro] Yeah!!! When I’m out in N.Y. boy it’s blunts and Phillies When I’m out in Strai. boy it’s wraps and swishes Now Blood walk to this, now Crips walk to this Now throw it up, raise it up for that gangster shit Now Blood walk to this, now Crips walk to this Now throw it up, raise it up for that gangster shit I’m in my Lambo maggot, my fo’ fo’ faggot Doors lift up I’m like Go Go Gadget I’ll hit your vertebrate bullets rip through tissues Your wife on the futon hugging that shitsu Homey you a bitch you got feminine ways Heard you got four lips and bleed for seven days I got fo’ fifths and bananas on the K’s And got more whips than a runaway slave Me and Yayo go back like some high top fades When I made fifty mill, Em got paid When I made sixty mill, Dre
got paid When I made eighty mill, Jimmy got paid I ain’t even gotta rap now life is made Said I ain’t even gotta rap, I’m filthy mayne I’m laughing on my way to the bank. Hahahahahahahaha x3 On my way to da bank niggu lalalalalalalala I see nothing but hundred dollar bills in the bank roll I got the kind of money that the bank can’t hold Got it off the street moving bundles and loads Seventy Three Caprice old school when I roll Breeze pass with the EZ Pass fuck the toll No more platinum I’m wearing gold I’m internationally known as the kid with the flow That brings enough dough it’s never enough dough Shit I need mo’ I need shit out the sto’ Baby ble was cold fresh out the flo’ Stashbox by the dashbox in
case they want war Make the purple bring the green in fuck the law I’m oh so raw, I’m hot I’m sure I’m like the coolest motherfucker around the globe boy I set the club on fire I told ya I’m the general salute me soldier
W
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Coke Weed N’drama in the LBC
th so much kinda hard bein’ Snoop D-O uble G ’ t I somehow, some way, keep comin p with funky-ass shit like every ngle day G’s ay I kick a little somethin’ for the d make a few ends as I and n morni tha in eeze through two e party’s still jumpin ause my mama ain’t home.
’ got bitches in the livin’ room gettin on nd they ain’t leavin’ till 6 in the mornng (six in tha mornin) o whatcha wanna do? and hit, I got a pocket full of rubbers my home boys do too o turn off the lights and close the door hoes But for what--we don’t love dem Yeahhh so we gonna smoke an ounce o this rG’s up hoes down while ya mothe uckas bounce to this.
Rollin’ down the street smokin’ endoe sippin’ on gin n juice y Laid back--with my mind on my mone and my money on my mind
Rollin’ down the street smokin’ endoe sippin’ on gin n juice y Laid back--with my mind on my mone and my money on my mind
4618 (f. 4618) [Hardcore Mads] Ready or not here we come, here comes trouble in the club 11, 12, 13, pistols big as M 16’s How the fuck we sneak in with this many heaters in our jeans Nina, 2 nina’s, a peace and they dont even see us Some shit pops off we squeeze each one they gon’ think its machine guns Vanos vo vano, bananas in our flannels Hands around our colt handles, hold them like roman candles Vannas vo vannas, banana fanna fo fannas Who come back all bananas, banna clips loaded Managers, bouncers and the club owners, the motherfuckers dont want us To come up and rush in the club and run up in it with a bunch of Motherfuckers from Runyan, steady poppin them onions, Ready set to go nut up, prepare to tear the whole club up Fixin to get into some shit just itchin to choke someone up You know we finna loc’n when we mixin coke with coke and nut rum up
Yeah Yeah oh, what up, see my people throw shit up See you talk that hoe shit now when you down you dont get up And can’t sit up your so slit up, the ambulance wont sew you up They just throw you up in the trunk once they tag your big toe up Heater no heater, automatic no matic Mac or no mac it dont matter if I have or dont have it You never know what im packin’ so you just dont want no static And open up a whole can of whoop ass you dont wanna chance to Risk it no biscuit, mili mac a mac milli Really homie dont be silly, homie you dont know me really You’re just gonna make yourself dizzy wonderin what the dealy Fuck it lets just get busy D Fizzys back up in the hizzy!
Git Up Now! Lets get it crackin, Git, Its on and poppin Its 4618 is back up in this bitch, uh, there aint no stoppin We’re gonna get it crackalatin What you waitin for the waiters orders Say no more fo tryin to play the wall and quit hatin Git Up Now! Notice you’re sittin, what the fuck is you deaf You motherfuckers dont listen, I said, We bout to get this motherfucker crackalatin’ Quit, procrastinatin’ What the fuck you waitin for get off the wall and quit hatin [Dr. Strai] I keep a shit load of bullets a pitpull to pull it out (?) And automatically explode on motherfuckers until they mouth be closed permanently You get burned until i quickly you can not hit me *****z to terrified to come get me, Tempt me if you think Swifty won’t send a slug, people run, When the reaper comes, the repercussions’ gon’ leak your
blood,
[Strai Guy] Inglewood, steepin’ without a weapon, you leave, you gone, I’m still runnin’ with stolen toasters while on parole, Snatch you out our home, like eviction notices hoe, When I unload, I’m known to never leave witnesses to roam, When I’m blowed, I’ll write the wicked in scroll, At the toll, when I’m sober I’m prone to roll up and disconnect your soul, *****. [ Murda] Now it’s proven it’s about to be a misunderstanding In furniture moving, bullets flying, lawyers & mothers suing Cause *****s don’t know the difference, you bitches just stick to fiction It’s sickening, you can’t even walk in my jurisdiction rippin’ it, Grippin’ the pump and who wanna fuck with a walking psychopathic Pyromaniac shady cats with 80 gats
And maybe thats the reason that you gon’ get it the worst a And since you jumpin’ in front of everybody you gon’ get it first [Strai General] I dispurse the crowd with something vigor and versatile So go on and record you verses now while you got a mouth, And it’s not a joke, it’s some kind of riddle, Kunizzle will lift up a 12 gizzle and throw a party from my equittle, And a glock that ? stop you from waking, Bullets’ll hit your liver, I’ll even shoot native americans, A ? *****, we back in you life and back in your wife, Hit you in the back with a knife and get it crackin’ tonight. Chorus
Done wit’ rap
I’m just so fucking depressed, I just can’t seem to get out this slump If I could just get over this hump, but I need something to pull me out this dump I took my bruises, took my lumps, fell down and I got right back up But I need that spark to get psyched back up, in order for me to pick the mic back up I don’t know how or why or when, I ended up in this position I’m in I’m startin’ to feel distant again, so I decided just to pick this pen Up to try to make an attempt to vent, but I just can’t admit Or come to grips with the fact that I may be done with rap, I need a new outlet And I know some shits so hard to swallow, but I just can’t sit back and wallow In my own sorrow, but I know one fact, I’ll be one tough act to follow One tough act to follow, I’ll be one tough act to follow Here today, gone tomorrow, cuz Hardcore Mads iz...
Done wit’ rap! Been yofavorite boy for like 22 years, but now I’m Done wit’ rap! Made songs wit laughter and songs wit tears, but now I’m Done wit’ rap! Been ridin’ round da hood in my chevrolet, but now I’m Done wit’ rap! Made hits wit Snoop, 50, Timbo and Dre, but now I’m Done wit’ rap! [Yoyoyo, niggu, Hardcore Mads iz done wit rap!] x2 Nobody asked for life to deal us with these bullshit hands we’re dealt We gotta take these cards ourselves, and flip them, don’t expect no help Now I could of either just sat on my ass, and pissed and moaned Or take this situation in which I’m placed in, and get up and get my own I was never the type of kid to wait by the door and pack his bags Or sat on the porch and hoped and prayed for a dad to show up who never did I just wanted to fit in in every
single place, every school I went I dreamed of being that cool kid even if it meant acting stupid Aunt Edna always told me, keep making that face til it gets stuck like that Meanwhile I’m just standing there holding my tongue, trying to talk like this! Then I stuck my tongue on that frozen stop sign pole at eight years old I learned my lesson then, ‘cause I wasn’t trying to impress my friends no more But I already told you my whole life story, not just based on my description Cause where you see it form where you’re sitting, is probably 110% different I guess we would have to walk a miles in each others shoes at least What size you wear, I wear 10’s, let’s see if you can fit your feet
Man I Miss Strai
Yeah, Yeah, Imma up at Mosby, now Im down in Torridal, right next to Høietun, But i’ll be hood forever, I’m the new Sinatra, and since i made it here, i can make it anywhere, yeah they love me everywhere, i used to cop in Grimstad, all of my dominicanos right there up on broadway, brought me back to that McDonalds, took it to my stash spot, 5-60 Strai street, catch me in the kitchen like a Simmons whipping Pastry, cruising down 8th street, off white lexus, driving so slow but BK is from Texas, me I’m up at Bed Stuy, home of that boy Biggie, now i live on billboard, and i brought my boys with me, say wat up to Ty Ty, still sipping Mai-tai sitting courtside Knicks and Nets give me high fives, N-gga i be Spiked out, i can trip a referee,
tell by my attitude that I most definitely from… Straaaaaaai! The city of love. The gangsters are tough. Straaaaaaai! The city of hope Yeah, tha city of hope. Yuuup! Strai x5 Straaaaaaaai! Lights is blinding, girls need blinders so they can step out of bounds quick, the side lines is blind with casualties, who sipping life casually, then gradually become worse, don’t bite the apple Eve, caught up in the in crowd, now your in-style, and in the winter gets cold en vogue with your skin out, the city of sin is a pity on a whim, good girls gone bad, the cities filled with them, Mami took a bus trip and now she got her bust out, everybody ride her, just like a bus route, Hail Mary to the city your a Virgin, and Jesus can’t save you life starts when the church ends, came here for school, gradu-
ated to the high life, ball players, rap stars, addicted to the limelight, MDMA got you feeling like a champion, the city never sleeps better slip you a Ambien in Chorus
Thanks To Yo wassup man? Is yo man Mads in da flippah-di-fluppah-di-flooh, and I wanna thank my man DJ Ramse for makin my beatz, and my men in the “4618� as well az all of da peeple in in the STR for inspiring me to make dis album. I wanna thank God for beiing on my side, man, and my brother Tupac Shakur. Rest In Peace, my nigga. I wish u was still here man, so you cud see me now. That I made it even dough i was black and poor. But last I wanna thank my mama for making me. There wouldnt be no me wit out you, man. Wit out u I woulda never sold 16 million albums in Japan. Men lie, Women Lie. But numbas dont, man! Mr. Mads Carron
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