[Intro: Sheek Louch]
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Fuck! Shit is real right here
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Roc-A-Fella, LOX
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Takin the streets over, motherfuckers
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Dont get it twisted
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[Verse 1: Sheek Louch]
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Yo, ayo, ayo, ayo
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Yo, shut the fuck up ‘fore I blast and Banned From TV your ass
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With no mask, look at the camera like what?
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Yeah, I did it, like them sick white boys the court committed
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To the death of me, I spaz like Im on Ecstasy
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Drop a hundred bars for real like Im lookin for a deal
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If I aint hungry, who the fuck is? Im worse than them African kids
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I aint straight til my numbers match the Motorola bids
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And walk the streets up in NY like I dont fuckin care
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If I aint strapped, that means I took em off my Nike Airs
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Get off mine, yall talk shit like little children
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But wanna ride mine like bitches when I walk up in the building
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‘Cause I catch tans in the winter, with wild whores
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Jet-skiin, while you keep warm at corner stores
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I make it hot, floodin your block the best way
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Professionall-ay, theyll find poison in your X-Ray
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As I get roasted, lookin at Biggie posted on my wall
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Takin shots of Louie til I fall
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Nothin to lose, just load the clip up in the groove
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And kick rhymes to the poster, til I swear Big moved
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My team, you would think was on Thorazine
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How we floss and dont give a fuck what its costin
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[Verse 2: Beanie Sigel]
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Yo, yo, pressure bust pipes, its time to apply it now
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Pick out a quiet town and tie it down
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Make niggas lock it down, yall know where to buy it now
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Beanie Mack, I supply it now
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My squad roll deep, in foreign cars with two seats
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Couple of 5s, a 6, a few Jeeps
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Bag enough coke to last a few weeks
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In case niggas wanna test — vest and a few heats
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You really wanna test my name? And test my game?
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Until you have me, test my aim?
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Yall niggas nuts, like testicles
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Hit you up in your apartment building vestibule
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Perhaps its best for you to keep on walkin
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Heat from the Larkin keep on sparkin
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Platinum prezzie, Bezzie stay sparklin
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Cop off the lot, never see me at the auction
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Pint of Bacardi darken, when its hawkin
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Out on the strip, until I reach the margin
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Not tryna meet the Sergeant at the precinct
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Eatin cheese sandwiches, down for the weekend
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Locked up with dirty white boys and Ricans
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[Verse 3: Jadakiss]
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Now, if I kill you I probably do ten in the box
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Come down on appeal, then Im killin your pops
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Feelin The LOX? Nigga, why you grillin The LOX?
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If this rap shit dont work, niggas still in the spot
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You bring it to me, I gotta lose your family
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Gangsters dont die, they get chubby and move to Miami
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Shit is deep now, dawg, but it gets deeper
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Fuck it! The weathers nice, and the price is much cheaper
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I put it on tape, you gon buy it
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I put it in a bag, you gon try it
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Yall niggas cant deny it!
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Lot of cats still tryna study my last bounce
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Tell you what — get a beat tape and a half ounce
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They got me where I cant be without my large gat
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Teflon long sleeve and my hardhat
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Dont matter if Im openin up or headline
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Doin the speed limit or pushin red lines
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Six months in the county or Fed time
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Ima be the ‘Kiss, nigga, until its bedtime
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Anythin Im on is a classic
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Any nigga ever had beef with? Son is a bastard
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Anytime I spit, spit acid
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L-O-X, Ruff Ryder — you heard? We got the game mastered
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[Interlude: Pain In Da Ass]
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I told you the pain was coming
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You wouldnt listen
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You tried to play me like a joke?
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Now who got the last laugh?
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Now take these bullets with you to hell
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[Verse 4: Sauce Money]
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You motherfuckers is sick, dont think Sauce the shit
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So many niggas on my nuts, I thought I lost my dick
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Picture me fallin off, Im camera shy
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Hammers fly, might miss you, but your manll die
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Whats the difference? Either way, Im sonnin your crew
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I fuck to win, yall niggas comin to lose
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Somethin to prove? Spit it, we can have a spray off
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I lay off wack niggas and kill em on my day off
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Aint nothin for me to bust a trey off
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Murder the whole month of April, nigga, just to take May off
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Run with more Germans than Adolf, you light crews
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Now I concentrate on your camp like Jews
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Flow hot like a heatwave, bitch
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Whips phatter than them shits they beat slaves with
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Im a mill-stackin nigga who pull quick
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Still packin for you Phil Jackson niggas on that bullshit!
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[Verse 5: Styles P & (Jay-Z)]
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I dont give a FUCK who you are, so FUCK who you are
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I dont care about a pretty bitch, watch or a car
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I dont care about your block and whoever you shot
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I dont care about your album and whenever it drop
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I dont care about your past, if I did I woulda asked
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Im too busy lightin ‘dro with a whole lotta hash
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Far as this rap shit, Im ten steps ahead of niggas
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Shootin backwards just for practice
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Ride or die, nigga, hoppin in your casket
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‘Bout to go to hell with you, blow the L with you
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Tell the whole world Im spittin, let em know the shells hit you
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I tell niggas quick — suck dick and get a Glock
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My name ring bells like Sunday at twelve oclock
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Im half-past-seven, bust six then eleven
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You know me, slide my man my joint say reload me
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I Ruff Ryde and pop a fella for Roc-A-Fella
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Screamin (What the fuck?), spendin mozzarella
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[Verse 6: Jay-Z]
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I know, pop, you cant stand us cause we cock them hammers
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Run in your crib, no prisoners, pop your grandma
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Locked in the slammer? Nope, popped up in Atlanta
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Crossed up in a drop, I popped up the antenna
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Whoa.. watch your manners when my veins pop like Scanners
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Like raindrops, you hear the thunder when I cock the cannon
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Big bang, big chains, aint shit changed
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Get brain in the four-dot-six Range
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Shit, mayne, switch lanes
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Every town I hit, switch planes
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Bitch, flip big ‘caine
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Flow with no cut, you take it in vein to the brain
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Muhfuckas is noddin and throwin up
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You know that you dont wanna owe that man
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Hell hit ya, get the picture? Kodak, man
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Got a love for war, I dont floss no more
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I just sit on my money til Im above the law
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How the fuck you gon stop us with your measly asses?
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We dont stop at the tolls, we got E-ZPasses, nigga
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Multiple cars and divas with D-Classes
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Iceberg sweats with I.B. on the elastic
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[Outro]
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Shit.. BIATCH!
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What the fuck, ya heard me? Hahahaha
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Put some more beat on that joint!
