[Verse 1: Rokamouth]
Yo the first born son was a burnt lit star
Certain sounds could just touch my heart
Working hard, and my team still starve
Outchea, for us they pulling new cars on these old rap farts]
Top the fools, i'm off these charts
I said, "Switching pronto, no need to front ho
They looking at him like that's my uncle"
Now it's a shame that I got to hunt you
Banging on my homie, you won't [bad word] Young [bad word] [bad word] up, snatch and hustle
It's a BK [?], bouta strap the muscle
If your raps are wack and you lack the bundle
Cause I do it all, young enough to see old kings fall off
Long enough to keep my force still strong
Throwing the track like a cannon ball
Through your walls, you're gonna hear my call
Certified til I die I'm Raw
If I hit the stu, [bad word] back with mo'
I put it in the stores', Platinum fo' sho'
Won't spend it all on dough like I've done befo
If a trap star could, let a trap star grow
I'll flip my dough because that's all I know
24/7 and never ends all ho
.44 let my lungs feel smoke
And I've kept it trill cause that's all we know
That's 47 [?], made that track with smoke
[?] on my throats, Shooting shows on tours
Leave it to my pros and my young bro Joe
Cause it’s not his fault, they putting styles on halt
And my other side glides each line I float
See my mind in my rhymes on boss rap
[?]
Roka keep it loaded if know you better [bad word] [?] Hating off the tongue, stay spitting hot bullets
Now my whole verse [bad word]  Come

[Hook: Dirty [bad word]  Come Now
Who's number one now?
Thought it was a joke
'Til the numbers starting showing up [4x]

[Verse 2: Dirty Sanchez]
Dirty want his money right now
And his credit
I deserve my respect for this [bad word] that I imbedded
I am better than them niggas who pretended that they them niggas
Who be lying to them niggas who be buying they [bad word] so [bad word] the government word to my brother man
From the 5th Flo'
Won't get fed if your mouth is closed
That's something he told me
The 47 [bad word] it low key
I'm still Dirty and I'm still 7:30
My vision is still blurry so picture perfect ain't really certain
Blind [bad word] baby, does the cover match them curtains?
Still couldn't block my shine
Chakras divrine like 33rd degree
Fresh 47 embroidery
Pro Era property, no loitering
Can't say my whole team eating yet
But I'm cooking up a mess
Where syringes were pressed: dirty kitchen
I'm spillin' all my kids on her dress, Started living what I'm thinking
Decider, we next stop
Stop and then frisk
Slaughtering pigs anybody can get it
Shooting stars, now make a wish
Rocking skins like the skins we rocking
Powerpuff smoking on that blossom [bad word] the game and this [bad word] is exhausting
But I don't give a [bad word] cause this [bad word] is awesome
47

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Jakk The Rhymer]
I'm from the Era, where we never show weak niggas love
They phonies, me and the homies holding it up
My only place first shorty never lost
Off the bus in New York, trying to record
Man, you're favorite rapper down the side
Recognize, they don't play with eyes
They an optical allusion like Optimus Prime
Make a rhyme down in the summertime
If I don't separate you and me
I'm acknowledging your [bad word] Move like rocket ships, who are we?
Move and sing, Word to my higher Buddha
Seeing through the eyes of Judah
I annihilate my loser
The crown jeweler, Boundary of a Goddess
Not a façade, the Brooklyn niggas is on
Demanding in large, we the men in charge
No progress, it's the Progress
Start spreading love, Gospel
Demanding in large, we the men in charge
No progress, it's the Progress
Start spreading love