As I sit around with more blow than Bill Bixby See the change, the two-thirteen Range; see the kick speed Gun on my waist, movin' with base Runnin' from Berettas; yo, my mule's name Bruschetta from the States You wrong, she blowin' kief up in the bong Rockin' knee-high Fendi boots, she just got bagged out in Milan I said to my nigga, "let's kill her, we got big shit to lose" Beside livin' like Carlos Slim, I hold the Uzi Looked at me, "yeah?"; sinister grin, let's win A strong British accent, yo, we jumped in the on the tint Highway's hot; we loaded, heavy bag full of hundreds If we get stopped, kid for real, yo, we murder by numbers Tastin' cheeba, sippin' tea in a coupe Lay you under cars; eat your fruit Will more stripes than Adidas set watchin', baguettes; black hard-bottoms, my ho in some sweats The wrong way's the long way home way; tell me 'bout it We don't do jails, cause if we get rocked, my niggas got me Smooth sails; eatin' steaks, bringin' frozen lobsters in Control the space; we mafia, out *scratching* "I live and die by the code and that's as good as it gets" "Check-check-check-check, I'm the last of a dying breed" "I live and die by the code and that's as good as it gets" "Check, I'm-I'm the last-I'm the last of a dying breed" I'm the last of this dying breed; I'm from the nineties When boom-bap was shining and Pac was dissin' B.I.G I'm a product of these grimy streets I was known upon the locals, now my name is growing overseas I sense the jealousy, my mind's forever golden I'll redefine explosion with this microphone I'm holdin' I'll use designer poison when they step inside this foam And, they claim that I'm the chosen, but the industry is clonin' Huh; so check the status, hoes, I'm hot like the equator On some childish behavior, wasn't Tyler the creator It's like crying in a cradle; neglected since the date of birth Respect the turf, like we're veterans replacin' dirt I burn tracks like in NASCAR collisions These rap stars are pigeons with they're glass-jar incisions I'll bring back the vision, like an act of religion With Deck, Chef, and 'Goons, another classic to listen to Yeah.. *scratching* "I live and die by the code and that's as good as it gets" "Check-check-check-check, I'm the last of a dying breed" "I live and die by the code and that's as good as it gets" "Check, I'm-I'm the last-I'm the last of a dying breed" I got crazy visions, for the art I living missile, I tear space apart, spittin' Won't miss you, but this verse is showin' darts Wu-Tang symbol is a living heart My hand shake cold, like a Saint Bernard We in the French Alps beaming down giant slopes for the mankind Droppin' quotes in cement lines; I passport-stamp mines Independent label air-miles; peepin' dudes in standby, braggin' bout hotel size The city's mine; it's bubblin' like grease for them French fries when I shine You snappin' pictures; my energy lives on through moans of crazy kitties In homes of fancy credos; keep 'em fetal, overnight it They say, "yes, sir", like I'm knighted Hit mics ultraviolet; pick apart rogue values on auto-pilot The words ignite, it's fire Bite it, higher standard, Harvard Here's some simple math, to fail or pass You ain't a G, you a dollar less Peace to Ugli and Chef I'm runnin' wild like Dali, except my canvass is the rhymin' pad Give me dap, like Johnny, put twenty-three on the tribal map *scratching* "I live and die by the code and that's as good as it gets" "Check-check-check-check, I'm the last of a dying breed" "I live and die by the code and that's as good as it gets" "Check, I'm-I'm the last-I'm the last of a dying breed"