Lyrics:

(Intro)
(Twista) Yeah, you know what's about to go down right?
(Ludacris) Yeah!
(Twista) Gotta let 'em know who is this...
(Ludacris) Ludacris!
(Twista) and who else nigga...?
(Ludacris) Twista... nigga,

(Twista) Uh, uh,

(Ludacris)
Sometimes I think that I gotta see a little bit of brighter days,
'Cuz I confine myself to a city near you in a solid cage,
And you can look to the left or the right but I'm trapped on center stage,
And I can rap to the beat but I don't know how to change my ways,
I still hear a fool and I'll track 'em, distract 'em, and wack 'em,
Jack a nigga for the dame of dames and I'll yack 'em, attack 'em, and sack 'em,
Get a weapon and I crack his brain 'cuz I'm a hustler, baller, pro,
And it wouldn't be right for me to be around busters and crawlers and hoes,
But I'm a pimp at night so talk shit and Im'a lift 'em up off a they toes,
Wit' a streetsweeper, regulatin' quarters, and ki's, and O's,
In a two-seater, Ludacris and Twister ,the bags of 'dro,
Smokin', chokin', get em open, croakin' its so potent, I'm hopin' to keep on floatin',
I'm soakin' wet and you can bet, people I'm high,
I'm seein' lions and tigers and bears... "Oh my"...
And I can't hide it or keep it hidden, good riddance I'm feelin' good,
I'm weapon concealin stealin my neighbor... hood,
Woulda, coulda, shoulda break a nigga off,
They'll see you later, go to tha doctor, hold my balls and (cough, cough),
You caught the vapors and I caught the throne, brain blown, honey I'm home,
Give me the microphone and fool's is like "Leave me alone!"

(Chorus: Twista)
Throw it up, if you get high, get blowed, get drunk,
If you want what I'm on, come on and kick it, let's ride, smoke 'dro, beat the trunk,
All tha bad ass bitches that wanna party just shake it great players get buck,
Me and my thugs and hustlers in tha party get money, fuck hoes, get crunk...

(Twista)
Lookin' out I put a little bit of hash as the motherfuckin' purple haze,
I feel it all in my body, adrenaline wit' the Bacardi, got me off fifty rippin' shit in a rage,
In a navy blue Pelle he 'bout the belly, Gucci Timbalands steppin' on the pedal up in the 'llac truck,
Wanna get me for the wood, better get the whole motherfuckin' hood to come and give you some back up,
We can get into it if you wanna do it, I'm leakin' the fluids outta the bodies that wanna come at this,
Empty out all kinds of blood for fuckin' wit' thugs, that I bury, my adversaries better want none of Twist,
Represent for my city anybody that differs wit' me gotta get it for thinkin' it's a game,
And whether you from my city or not, talk shit I'ma kill 'em, especially if he say my name,
I bend up on 'em, I handle by business on 'em and stick him up for tha skrilla,
From K-Tilla... Smokin' on a fat pilla...
Murder haters at no filla... Niggas claimin' they wanna bring it but realy dont be killas,
Ballin' out so hard, tha size of my rims roll to a hella-fast ice scene...
When the dough aint come no bigger, Im'a flip a drop Vet 2000 and 3 on nineteens...

(Chorus)

(Twista)
When ballin' outta control I floss on, flame on, pimp on...
A speed demon, pedal to the metal when I'm in the zone, hang on, 'cuz him gon'...
In the motherfuckin' wind while I'm sippin' on Hen, I got cake while you owe somethin',
And I done came a long way from lettin' me hold somethin' to roll somethin',
Found a victim 'n' him wit' venom input some adrenaline, and then kill 'em and send him to the cemetary,
Wit' a flow full of horror like a poltergiest, he called to Christ, when he saw how many men I buried,
(Shit...) And when it come to cheefin' good, nigga who that? Do that, I got the sack open,
And the herb got the flow so strong that I might crack the track, while back-to-back smokin',
Never come up when the mobs elite, nigga you ain't untouchable not when I spark the heat,
Comin' at you like sharks to meat, the blood start to leak,
I can tell when a mark's heart is weak, come at me fully loaded 'cuz I'm hard to beat,
Always screamin' where tha drink and tha 'dro at, you know we love that cutta,
In the back of tha club wit' purple and the black chronic, Twist and Ludacris get fucked up...

(Chorus)

Pass me the ______ let me smoke my ______...

(Outro: Wildstyle)
Yeah,
This is a Wildstyle production...
Twist and Ludacris collabo...
Get it, get it, get it...
Uh... Yeah...