[Produced by J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League]

[Intro: Rick Ross]
It's time to take you to the other side
The side you gotta watch your A&E cable television for homie
But we live this shit
I'm not a star, well that's a lie
I seen a man raise his hand on the stand, he testified
Spoke on the homicides, amongst other things
Even shared my triple beam dreams

[Verse 1: Nas]
A project minded individual, criminal tactics
Us black kids born with birth defects, we hyperactive
Mentally sex-crazed, dysfunctional, they describe us
They liars, at the end of the day, we're fuckin' survivors
I remember watchin' Scarface the first time
Look at that big house, that Porsche paid for by crime
How could I sell this poison to my peoples, in my mind?
They dumb and destroy themselves is how I rationalize
In the bastardized nation, Magnum .45 carryin'
Where I'm from ain't far from Washington Heights to cop Aryan
A rookie boy, the cookie didn't make no profit
A stranger to the block, I damn near had to make them cop it
It only took a fiend to taste it once to say it's garbage
I brought it back to papi, ain't tryna take no losses
He focuses on my emotionless young dealer face, then pauses
He gives me powder, he has faith in Nas' ambitions to distribute coke
Had addictions to gold chains, Mercedes Benz hopes, but I'm again broke
This shit ain't cut for me, other dealers, they up their orders
Barely at 62s, they already up to quarters
They out there every day, some true hustlers for you
I'm at it half way, none of my customers are loyal
Picturin' pipin' out the seats of a Pathfinder
Powerful pursuit for pussy, cash, to flash diamonds
My junior high school class, wish I stayed there
Illegal entrepreneur, I got my grades there
Blamin' society, mad, it wasn't made fair
I would be Ivy League if America played fair
Poor excuse, and so I was
Throwin' rocks at the pen, just for the love
Before the evil, the secret life of G's
You seein' me blurry, triple beam dreams

[Chorus: Rick Ross]
Pocket full of money, parkin' lot full of them haters
Triple beam dreamin', crib with 2 elevators
20 flat screens and got cameras every angle
Dope been comin' so you know the income major
Rule number 1: I can't do business with a stranger
Contract killers comin' when I feel endangered
Early 90s reminiscin' when I had a pager
Triple beam dreams: now Pat Riley my neighbor

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
Fuck boy, talkin' out of turn nigga
In the court room, spreadin' like a germ nigga
25 on the line, them niggas droppin' dimes
Cooperation got them rednecks droppin' time
Khaki suits and some niggas go to actin' cute
We was all cool, stackin' in Acura coupes
More accurately, we acted as is if jackin' was cool
Snatchin' niggas out they shoes then wear jackets to school
Fuck boy, you caught up in my dream
Countin' cream on the cover of a magazine
I'm the source, got the plug with the uncut
Jay-Z Blue Magic nigga, what what
Brand new S Class with a meal ticket
Nigga cocaine white as Tommy Hilfiger
Ralph Lauren Blue Label as I'm gettin' high
Triple beam dreamin' as the cream multiples
Fuck boy, talkin' out of turn nigga
'Fore you sell dope, it's shit you gotta learn nigga
Home invasions, duct tape
Fornicatin', countin' money with a fuck face
Fuckin' bitches that be givin' up your whereabouts
Slow leaks, gotta air em out
Kill 'em all, Rolls Royce Ghost nigga, ball
Phantom drop head, shit I had to get em all
Niggas hate but they know they never get involved
Food on the plate, fuck em all, I could send my dog
Triple beam dreams, the ghetto's my reality
I'm from where your hustle determines your salary
Six figure family member, nigga forget about it
Low income housin', nigga tryna get up out it
I got a plan little nigga, just believe in me
Triple beam dreamin' with this thing in me

[Chorus: Rick Ross]
Pocket full of money, parkin' lot full of them haters
Triple beam dreamin', crib with 2 elevators
20 flat screens and got cameras every angle
Dope been comin' so you know the income major
Rule number 1: I can't do business with a stranger
Contract killers comin' when I feel endangered
Early 90s reminiscin' when I had a pager
Triple beam dreams: now Pat Riley my neighbor