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[Verse 1]
Tell him I want his children, I know he fear the flow
I got the guns right here, deploy
The women don’t care, Scarface shipped his years ago
Sonny lost his finger then this little nigga’s ears can go
Been in the room with the spitter
Came to New York, he drunk, swimming pool full of liquor, right
Frederico freestyle and spit on ya
It’s like LA when the 40.Cal lift on ya
It’s political the way it works
But I’m lyrical, I’m from the underground, I do the dirty work
A hard hat, constructions – bars back in conjuction
With the hood, got the [?] and hard packs, yeah, we pumpin’
You got Snoop, we got Jay, we got Nas, you got Dre
But you the king of everything, that’s how you wanna play?
Cool – I go to your show, I know you tour in Spain, money
So I aim at the crowd and hit your rump
Everything semi-auto
The home of the 12-12 skinny’s, nigga, it’s…
My advice is, I’ve been the nicest
My rhymes come from the gut as the pen decides it
Fred the God on it, I part, I’m in the vices
It’s true, mine’s ink, made up, I’m indecisive
And I still move the auto for the gram
You trying to wet us up, I gotta stop the war, I be damned
Big cats gets wood in Brooklyn, punks was in the X
They both was named B.I.G., you should a little respect
Big L got shot in here, you show a little respect
Like… massager, homie, I’m on your neck
Must be hanging with highrollers
We get crazy when we broke, we can only bipolar
Baking soda, the wood works
Chef in seconds, I can give Inglewood work
And for you rappers trying to put me in dirt
Knew I was paralyzed then stood me up on the verse
I’m still setting the trap, I’m still cutting up work
You get money from rap, and we be up late on the first
The first – back to…
Y’all be at AA meetings, must be missing the bar
It’s a difference when you spitting at God
Number one on their list, but I rarely listen to y’all
I’m a back in the past rhymer
Illmatic cassette in the pathfinder
B.I.G. CD next to the bundle
Pac’s got me hardknocked, vinyls from the tunnels
TBM is willing to ride
This is verbal murder, I know I’m killing your vibe
You got New York sick so you the cancer
It’s like Philly ’96 draft, I’m the answer
Go!



Lyrics taken from http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/f/fred_the_godson/say_my_name_lyrics.html

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