[Shyne] Uh huh [Foxy Brown] Uh [Shyne] Lets get it clear (Uh huh) Brooklyn Vietnam (That's right) [Foxy Brown] Yo yo... Live from the seven-one-eight y'all; Murder City [Shyne] Lay down nigga (It's the Ill Na Na) Cut ya dick off put it in ya mouth y'all understand? (Let's go) [1st Verse (Shyne)] Ride with me as I race through ya hood Give me a fifth that'll bang and a jury that'll hang Pants saggin' in that Bentley wagon Ayo that's my nigga Yacht if the mink is saggin' Since a youth I flipped, on some ruthless shit Had a thing for rings, bling, Coupes and shit Some' bout watchin' Montana come up outta Havana And rule this world made me wanna grab my hammer Fuckin' with the Cheddar Boys Some hustler flip girls instead of boys Keep filthy laweys, for when the FEDs annoy us We keep this shit gangsta nigga from verse to chorus
And the Street Lords and Truly Yours Drive Modena Spiders and big exhaust Bleed for the streets love the war My nose bleeds for weeks I love the raw Puncture niggaz when I comfort niggaz Motor City to Brooklyn Veitnam Nigga it's on till my flesh is gone And even then I live on in gangsta form
[Chorus] What you know about that? Macs and cash nigga how you love that? What you know about that? Doin' it up livin' it up, nigga what? What you know about that? The gully kid put it in your skully kid, bleed nigga what it is What you know about that? Yacht, Cheddar Boys, Streets Lords, truly yours
[2nd Verse (Foxy Brown)] It's the 'Godfather Buried Alive' Ayo Po it's the Ill Na Na stuntin' in 5.0 Went to Brooklyn with the Rugers out In Flatbush and I keeps the Kiki poppin' off when the goons is out Yall got a muthafuckin problem when my dude get out Dutty Ay bust a shot for Shyne get the Guiness Stout Thats my word I got the Berken pulled over up on Parkside & Nostrond In the butter scotch Rover I'm ah bad gal style like I'm 'posta Got his comrades in Clinton bustin' nuts on my poster Phone check! Muthafucka hit the yard up Comm stop Mid-State Brooklyn niggaz squad up I'm hot steppin in the pink staline seven I'ma stunt till BIG tell me there's a ghetto up in heaven See through niggaz take they time like a man We don't snitch we don't sing on the stand but y'all don't hear me though..
[Chorus]
[3rd Verse (Shyne)] Money, cars, guns, hoes Sniff some blow and I'm good to go Eagle inflated Federal Bureau Investigated Most hated nigga read the affidavit Uh racing loud pipes big fucking exhausts burning the turnpike My game so tight I arouse dikes You punk rappers should paying me publishing the way you write And be sampling my life, every line in your rhyme Sound like you wanna be Shyne, and I don't blame ya Who wouldn't? Young nigga catching charges Continental Ts parked in garages Menages, odds is I'm the best spittin' it, nigga I'm gettin' it I admit it I was watching New Jack City And fucking with ?Goodfellas? Uncle Paul got me dying to ball Every thing I talk about I live it All you hear these rappers rap about I really did it I was designed to hold nines, and grind Step out of line put you in that white line Rearrange ya brain ain't nothin change You know the game jet planes and cocaine And what I say might be held against me I don't wanna talk, I'm the hottest nigga in New York
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