40 Cal by 40 Cal
Diplomatic Immunity 2

40 Cal.
Fourty!!!
Told y'all, Dipset!!!
Fourty!!! (Yea)
Fourty!!! (Yea . . . enough)

Verse 1
Aiiyo the heat do spray
Oh, dough too cheap to pay?
I'll just blow his wig off like a sheet toupee
I don't care what cha people say
When ya whole team fags, call ya crew B2Gay
Whatchu know about Courvoisier and a Donadi grey
Halle Berry, Halle Robinson, that's a holiday
I play the Gotti way, bring it where ya mommy stay
See the gun, put ya hands up like Hip Hop Hooray
I'm like Dr. Dre, stacks is high
Niggas comin' at me wrong, and I ask 'em why
And they don't have the right answer, like Allen I
Then put ya head between ya legs, kiss ya ass goodbye
And getcha squad aware, Harlem's here
If we don't got Roc on we got Rob 'Em Wear
Cartier, army safari gear
Wit coke to line up more heads, then a barber's chair
Where my theme music?

Chorus: S.A.S (2X)
This is 40 Cal, and the 40 Blaow!
Every 40 miles N runnin screamin shorty wild
Mad, flows, crack on the stove
When you hear that 4, 0, act like you know

Verse 2
I could show you how to get a get a mean stack
Supply you wit crack, dat'll getcha fiends back (trust me)
So keep talkin' and getcha team clapped
Gun smokin' so much, it need a nicotine patch
And I'm a chain smoker, you gotta chain I'll smoke ya
Throw 'em on the Amtraks is how I train dojers
Broke niggas lyin still, I'll leave 'em lyin still
You gotta watch, you dead, that's time to kill
It aint vitamins when I show 'em the iron pills
I'ma bomb threat, you just a lil' fire drill
I buy out deals, why? Cause I rhyme real
So don't think it's million when I hitchu wit da 9 Mill
I'm like a minefield, niggas scared to step to me
Drop two freestyles, already want the best of me
See what the rock cookin' up, this the recipe
Dipset Byrd Gang, (told y'all) consecutively

Chorus

Verse 3
Touch my jewels? Niggas rather palm a grenade
My gun hold 12 shells, like a carton of eggs
Y'all know dudes from Harlem get paid
Put I aint talkin' bout money, when it cost you an arm and a leg
Sparkin' up haze inna Garcia Veg
Have you cleanin' my house, that's the only way ya squad'll be made
Sparkin' the gauge like barbers that fade
I'll turn ya head to the red seed, and I'll put a part in ya waves
I'm why niggas smoke a carton a day
I'll blow ya father away, just to make you go farther away
Cause in my hood, you try to floss fresher than Manny
You'll be Sweet Vicks like the cough medicine candy
You mad my charm heavy and fancy
Your money come in light bills, like Con Edison Family
Tuck whammys in a mini holster
So when I hit u wit the Grand Slam, fuck Sammy, call me Semi Sosa

Chorus