[Verse 1: Sean Price]
Rags to riches and riches to rags n***a
The bag with the shit got shit on the bag n***a
Bag on my hip, pop spit up your mask n***a
Mad little bitch drop the fist to your ass n***a
My gift of gab is a gift from the Gods
The God given talent I'm spitting is different from y'alls
Sean, n***a spell my name right
You fucked up the package, you ain't selling the cane right
I'm game tight, big gun that I aim right
At any lame type that be thinking about a gang type
Hug and a smile, ain't real so I feel like a motherless child
You dudes in trouble
Big guns with bullets that's the size of the super bubble
N***a that don't work
Hit me with your best, I guess that don't hurt
P!

[Verse 2: Jakk Frost]
What the fuck is you thinking?
You used to busting your gun, then why the fuck is you blinking?
If I don't bash your skulls with bottles of Dom P
I'm in [?] bitches with Tek and Sean P
Oh who me? I'm that n***a Jakk Frost
Bust the mac off and make the D-T's back off
My firing pin wind blow the whole double stack off
Me fuck your bitch? N***a I'd rather jack off
Stuck on my Sinatra shit, bitch I do it "My Way"
Four and a half ounces back to [?] on the highway
You better than me n***a, please that's what they all say
In the projects, fifth floor, my feigns in the hallway
They calling me bruh man
Loyal like the [?] man
Don't make me fu-fuck around and let the uzi stutter man
Beard Gang general, Beard Gang admiral
Tom Brady with bullets, who wanna catch this lateral?
I air n***as, delete and clear n***as
Try to stand up, tie you to a wheelchair n***a
I went a little over so I'mma stop here n***a
This is Beard Gang Click, long facial hair n***as