Yeah, my is Riley, son But you what niggas call me? AKA, Riley Escobar, know I'm saying? Cause I be in the streets you I got all kinds of names HR Paper Stacks Uh, also known as AKA Choker, uh 1] Hey, yo, I'll you up in sixteen pieces In front of your nieces, while I'm Reese's And won't even them any, yes I spit plenty This is East flow at its finest In the studio, where you find us, put a bullet where spine is At sixteen I was skipping school and smoking While you was learning about English, Big L was Ebonics I spit fire so demonic, writing code like I'm A Jedi master breaking it down old plaster No medication for track cause this is how a psycho rips My account is like a cino bolt, your pocket's microchips, uh Motherfucker, I dare you to test it, hope you're well Whoop your ass and get arrested, in a breasted Louis Vuitton encrested tailor made suit Now that's All Sinatra I like hollow tips on contact Chronologically murder schmoe no bringing Joe back Puffing and sipping Cognac Mafietic mentality, introduce me to beat and it's fatality I kill mics like Conrad Sharp like Hanzo steel, the is obtuse I get loose sipping Goose and rhyme like Doc Seuss Flow tight like noose, whoop ass Bruce, no time for a truce mathematic addict I spit sixteens so erratic you think it was a I know by now you thinking "Oh my God, he let have it" But that was just a loan, time to like I'm Capone Reep what I've sewn, in other words that is the while homies smoking marijuan' If you thinking that this shit is well then you're dead wrong for every emotion and every mood I have a song For the club, for the streets, for the and for the sheets Cause this is where intellect and meets I'm Young Sinatra, backstage with BobbySoxers I got ya Yeah! You wanna fuck us?! Fuck us, yeah!?