"What? What? What? What? What?"

[Chorus: Polite (JoJo Pellegrino)]
Yo it's never been a game
Yo all I'm life I grew up in the hood as a hustler
(Shit'll never be the same
Be on the south shore with rats tryin' to earn in your circumfrance)
Yo I used to sell 'caine
Slept the with the burglars, even broke bread with the murderers
(Apply pressure for The Grain
Dead nights, approach ten mic's, somethin' Polite's servin' ya's hurtin' ya)

[Polite]
I ain't Puff but everything I spit be big
Streets or the booth, everything I spit be big
Got guns that'll crack ya wig
Spit a verse that'll collapse ya ribs
You fuckin' wit a gangsta, ain't no other way to explain it
When I cock and aim it if you ain't involved than hit the pavement
Niggas eatin' too long, ain't tryin' to share their dish
Like Adonis won't air this bitch
JoJo call Slay, tell him that it's murder on the way
Call Clue tell him that the hit went through
FedEx vexed, nigga bang this next
Need slot time on Hot 9, shot with a hot rhyme
You niggas is lames, fuckin' with them silver ass chains
You niggas don't bang them thangs
I done known to strike a few, cripple a few
Niggas that was just like you thought they was murderers
Leave the booth wet up, disconnect his ass from his neck up
Move too swift with a set up

[Chorus 2: JoJo Pellegrino (Polite)]
Shit'll never be the same
Be on the south shore with rats tryin' to earn in your circumfrance
(Yo it's never been a game
Yo all I'm life I grew up in the hood as a hustler)
Apply pressure for The Grain
Dead nights, approach ten mic's, somethin' Polite's servin' ya's hurtin' ya
(Eh-yo I used to sell 'caine
Slept the with the burglars, even broke bread with the murderers)

[JoJo Pellegrino]
Yo I fight fire with fire plus I got the Eye of the Tiger
Sharpshooter with the eye of a sniper
South shores only, what's pay on without Tony?
Members only, open wide stack, no seekin' less with Joey
Flow cause critical damage, speak fluent foul language
Crystal clear like your digital cameras
Rappers pop shit in nursery terms
Spit a flame at watered down cats and watch 'em boil third degree burns
Studio Kelly your wordplay is hardly legit
I was a boss before Flex dropped bombs to my shit
Put the verbs on, developed in the heart of The Bricks
Pardon me bitch while I walk like the star of the flick
Plus it's all in the flick of my wrist, darts that I dish
Explode on impact, vanish any target that I hits
It's like Jo-Jo, Polite
The Rock's most official, cock and blow ya pistol
S.I., N.Y.

[Chorus]