We now return you to your regular scheduled programming
I'm 'bout to bring out the whole Young Money fam right now
We gon' set this shit off, my nigga Mac Maine for president
G-series' out in the streets right now
Hit a nigga on MySpace or something man
Holler

Day dreaming
I fell asleep beneath the flowers
For a couple of hours
On a beautiful day

Day dreaming!

You already know
What the fuck is popping
Baby I'm what's hopping-a
I keep a Zip-Lock bag full of 'dro
And I keep a bad bitch with me on the low
I'mma be a G until the day that I go
I can feel it in the air
The reaper's coming slow

Shh
I can hear the reaper coming
But I ain't scared, oh, no, no, I ain't running
Now when I walk past, you might see an extra shadow
Angels on my shoulders are using me for a battle
Spiritual warfare, good versus evil
I even fought the demons as a semen
Yes I was brought there, cursed ever since my day of birth
Got a Heaven-sent flow, though it's Hell on Earth
So, with that in mind, I don't live for Prada
I'm trying to stack and mack, and got stigmata
Tryna get the same fan base as Big Poppa
Sometimes, when I flow, they say the southern Big's popped up
They tell me, "Don't get murked or get locked up"
But I'm from Holly Grove, I can't give the block up (Holly Grove)
So 'til the day they drop my box, fuck
I'ma ride with my Glocks up
You already know

You already know
What the fuck is popping
Baby I'm what's hopping-a
I keep a Zip-Lock bag full of 'dro
And I keep a bad bitch with me on the low
I'mma be a G until the day that I go
I can feel it in the air
The reaper's coming slow

(Bring it home mang)
I'm hitch-hiking on the highway of life
You might see me on the side of the road
(Who knew this nigga could sing?)
I asked the Lord to be my coat and umbrella
'Cause outside it's raining cold
It's so cold
It's so cold
It's so cold (America)
It's so cold

I say, Miss America, Land of the Free
You ain't never do nothing for a brother like me
You sold me a dream of 40 acres and a mule
Then you turn that half-a-acre that I had into a pool
You get up on the news, lying about how the levee's broke
Now Weezy lost 2 Jags, and spitta's Chevy broke
Flooded out engines, messed up suspensions
You took everything we had, Uncle Sam, you Satan fan

You already know
What the fuck is popping
Baby I'm what's hopping-a
I keep a Zip-Lock bag full of 'dro
And I keep a bad bitch with me on the low
I'mma be a G until the day that I go
I can feel it in the air
The reaper's coming slow