text: gunshots OKAY, IM RELOADED!!!
  You motherfuckers, think you big time?
  Fuckin with Jay-Z, you gon die, big time!
  Here come the Pain! gunshots
  Jigga... , Bigga... 
  Nigga, how you figure... 
  Yeah, yeah, yeah
  Ayo, peep the style and the way the cops sweat us 
  The number one question is can the Feds get us 
  I got vendettas in dice games against ass bettors 
  And niggas who pump wheels and drive Jettas
  Take that with ya
  Hit ya, back split ya 
  Fuck fist fights and lame scuffles 
  Pillow case to your face, make the shell muffle 
  Shoot your daughter in the calf muscle 
  Fuck a tussle, nickel-plated
  Sprinkle coke on the floor, make it drug-related 
  Most hated
  Cant fade it 
  While yall pump Willie, I run up and stunt silly 
  Scared, so you sent your little mans to come kill me 
  But on the con-trilli, I packs the MAC-milli
  Squeezed off on him, left them paramedics breathin soft on him
  Whats ya name?
  Who shot ya? Mob ties like Sinatra 
  Peruvians tried to do me in, I aint paid them yet
  Tryin to push 700s, they aint made them yet
  Rolex and bracelets is frostbit; rings too
  Niggas round the way call me Igloo, stick WHO?
  Motherfucker!
  Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit your drawers
   Brooklyn, goin out for all
   Thats right, you dont stop
   You wont stop 
  What, what, what?
  Jay-Z, Big Smalls, nigga shit your drawers
  Brooklyn represent yall, hit you fold
  You crazy, think your little bit of rhymes can play me?
  Im from Marcy, Im varsity, chump, youre JV
   Jay-Z
  Biggie baby! 
  My Bed-Stuy flows malicious, delicious
  Fuck three wishes, made my road to riches
  From 62s, Gemstars, my moms dishes 
  Gram choppin, police van dockin
  Ds at my doors knockin 
  Keep rockin, yeah
  No more mister nice guy, I twist your shit
  The fuck back with the pistols blazin
  Hot like Cajun 
  Hotter than even holdin work at the Days Inn
  With New York plates outside
  Get up out of there! Fuck the ride!
  Keep your hands high, shit gets steeper 
  Here comes the Grim Reaper, Frank White!
  Need the keys to your InnKeeper 
  Chill, homie, the bitch in the Shoneys told me
  Youre holdin more drugs than a pharmacy
  You aint harmin me, so pardon me
  Pass the safe, before I blaze the place
  And heres six shots just in case
  Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit your drawers
   Brooklyn goin out to all
   You dont stop
   You wont stop 
   Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit your drawers
   Brooklyn goin out to all
   You dont stop
   You wont stop 
  Yeah, yeah, yeah
  For 9-6, the only MC with a flu
  Yeah I rhyme sick, I be what youre trying to do
  Made a fortune off Peru, extradite, china white her-on
  Nigga please, like short sleeves I bear arms 
  Stay out my way from here on Gone! 
  Me and Gutta had two spots
  The 2-for-5 dollar hits, the blue tops 
  Gotta go, Coolio mean its gettin Too Hot
  If Fay had twins, shed probably have two Pacs 
  Get it? Tu... Pacs?
  Uhh, uhh, uhh
  Time to separate the pros from the cons 
  The platinum from the bronze
  That butter-soft shit from that leather on the Fonz 
  A S1 diamond from a I class don
  A Chandon sipper from a Rosé nigga, huh?!
  Brook-Nam, sippin on
  Cristal forever, play the crib when its mink weather 
  The M.A.F.I.A. keep cannons in they Marc Buchanans 
  Usually cuatro cinco, the shell sink slow
  Tossin ya, mad slugs through your Nautica
  Im warnin ya 
  Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers
   Brooklyn goin out to all
   You dont stop
   Thats right, you wont stop 
  Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit your drawers
   Brooklyn goin out to all
   You dont stop 
   You wont stop 
  Is Brooklyn in the house?
  Uhh, Roc-A-Fella yall, Junior M.A.F.I.A
  Supermen clique
  Brooklyns Finest, you re-wind this
  Representing BK to the fullest