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