(Chorus) you want me to cross the border? well come on baby you want me to cross the border? well come on baby (Boobonic) They call me A.J., A.K.A. Ant Jones and aye, the AK tear bones, Homes seldomely ever talk over cell phones or chase dudes, I choke 'em like bass tubes every whip, every bitch, every leather coat since '88 to right now I was never broke back then I was V'd up with a nut cup, problem with the price nigga? see Buck never waitin' in line nigga, I bump pay everybody shit just to get to the front young, did I mention Twenty One? with more houses that sell than Century Twenty One cops respect 'cause they know we big and ain't lock us up for bodies that they know we did that M shit clean you out like ammonia imagine '89 fuckin' Appolonia. (Clipse) Last name Robinson, first name Stacy I was gettin' Cagney high and gettin' head from Lacy '88 graffiti, chicks was still masin' I was a Millionaire when Rick James was freebasin' I paved the way, showed ballers how to ride today I chopped the roof off my ride that day imagine all the hate I made? used to have to pull my sun visor down for shade on cloudy days they would shoot up my cars I would just slide back through with new rims and a paint job flamboyant like a gold One-Ninety with a side panel reading, I want you to find me c'mon, I sold that Night Rider, and it came with a Kit when you put the shit in the needle and hit it, that was it Ron..ahem...Heroin, excuse me ya'll I'm from Virginia where the Southern draw don't mind me... (Mr. Mister) See, it's lil' Bucky, my jewels? husky connects like broads, I fuck 'em but they don't fuck me who owe me money in the streets? try to duck me wigs get split like bananas, trust me keep it butter, call me Land 'O Lakes got more crack on the streets than Cali after earthquakes Southwest gon' vouch for this our teams trade off nicks (Knicks) like Ewing and the draft pick easy money, that was all in Eighty-Nine locked down every block, made all gravy mine Gucci slides cost Three-Twenty-Five I, pulled up in the Three-Twenty-Five I and A.J. bought a Joe-Paul-Mary silk shirts, his gators was Blueberry and this the shit OG's used to do scoop every young boy and treat 'em to City Blue. (Fabolous) It's like ya'll don't know beatbox, I was O.T. at Twelve given a half at Six, an O.Z. at Twelve ain't nobody come near the minor that was runnin' spots in both North and South Carolina by Ninety I was already a crack legend pullin' up a year early in a brown Ac Legend I ain't cop from Uptown, I re'd by the shores and I could go a month straight in Fila Valores the way I used to equip with my features I was comin' to Junior High School in better whips than the teachers 'bout my paper, I ain't even think 'bout the chicks but I kept everything Gucci from my link to my kicks beatbox Mike, I learned to cook as a child got knocked for attempt, the best lawyers looked at my trial got Five at Eighteen, I took it and smiled came home in Ninety-Two and flooded Brooklyn with valves I'm back... (Chorus)
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