(feat. Paul Cain)    [Intro - Paul Cain]  Yeah, Desert Storm niggaz, Cain  Ghetto, I got these niggaz man (uh huh)  Clue! (yeah), I'm the first line of defense (yeah)  And I'ma show 'em what that means (yeah)    [Chorus 1 - Paul Cain]  I know these niggaz hoped I wouldn't make it - fuck you  Your hatred only made me wanna cake ya - fuck you  Wherever I see you nigga I'ma buck you  And put a hole in your chest that's big enough to drive a truck through    [Verse 1 - Paul Cain]  I bring the drama back where you lives, flatter your wiz  Reload and then point the Mag at your kids  So what I sound remorse, the records I still peep guns on me  But the difference now is only Deserts  If I talk it's gonna be reckless; I'm ready to die  So when I apply pressure, niggaz gon' respect it  Tote guns to rob niggaz, I told 'em to use  And leave enemies of friends that like broken and bruised  They ain't crazy, they just broke and confused; cross me  And they'll be talks of how they found the man smoked on the news  I'ma career crook - they used a mug shot from my graduation picture  And my junior high school yearbook  Paul Cain never appear shook  Yeah I might talk to my enemies but never police (nah)  You wanna converse it better be brief; you ain't gotta say much  Show me the money and the cheddar'll speak  If it ain't involvin bread, I ain't with it  I don't need D's on me, I'm already dodgin Feds  When the shots from the revolver spread  Duck, I don't discriminate, leave CEO's and artists dead  Make slugs a part of his head  Vanish then pop up in a SL double nickel, scarlet red  Fuck you I'm tryna get my cash right  All my niggaz flip birds and blast pipes, addicted to the fast life  Live everyday like my last night; OD'in or X  When I got signed like Len Bias on draft night (yeah)  Niggaz (uh), Street Dreams (yeah) (uh), (yeah)    [Chorus 2 - Fabolous]  I see ya faggot ass schemin - fuck you  Bitch you don't wanna swallow semen - fuck you  No you hate the way I'm "Street Dreamin" - fuck you  That's why I ridin, clappin, wit the .40 Cal screamin - fuck you    [Verse 2 - Fabolous]  When I pulled the 5 out; I kinda expected  For the backstabbers, to be standin behind me, wit they knives out  Then the Range, wit the fins drove in  I wasn't shocked to see my foes, dressed in friends clothin  But - I still pull through the sty; wit handguns  As big as the one, Robocop pulled from his thigh  You prolly heard about the bullets I buy; and how it look like  I'm throwin batteries, when the bullets shoot by  So what, you wear a vest, why would I care  If I aim for ya chest, that be a good idea  Nigga, it's nothing to clap ya; but I'm more worried  Bout the groupie cops, who wanna put they cuffs on a rappa  That's why I'm limpin off wit a freak; and a lawyer  Who woulda got O.J. Simpson off in a week  I could show you how to blow up on ya own; in a Benz  That'll hit a buck! and make the windows go up on they own  Wit a stash box compartment for; a handgun  That make holes the size of peep holes, on apartment doors  My closet look like department stores; and you wonder why  Ya girl's comin home, wit a cigar sip for  Cause I just dump the light Dutch, mash the guts  You won't believe how much ass I touch  Who else struts pass the sluts, and a chain wit so much  Ash and cuts, that it hangs much pass the nuts  That's why I get followed by broads; wit deeper throats  Then the people at the circus, that be swallowin swords  Y'all hopin that the Don fall off; but my money's long enough  To keep shootin ya bank until, ya arms fall off  I'm eatin, and I ain't have to use someone's utinsels  And when you clean as me, you know that every bum is against you  But please don't let someone convince you; to test the kid  And get hit wit slugs as long, as a No. 2 Pencil, fucka    [Chorus 2 - 2x]