text: Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?
  Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?
  We gonna do it like this
  Anytime youre ready, check it
  I got seven MAC-11s, about eight 38s
  Nine 9s, ten MAC-10s, the shits never ends
  You cant touch my riches
  Even if you had MC Hammer and them 357 bitches
  Biggie Smalls, the millionaire, the mansion, the yacht
  The two weed spots, the two hot Glocks
  Thats how I got the weedspot
  I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb spread
  Little Gotti got the shotty to your body
  So dont resist, or you might miss Christmas
  I tote guns, I make number runs
  I give MCs the runs drippin when I throw my clip in
  The AK, I slay from far away
  Everybody hit the D-E-C-K
  My slow flows remarkable, peace to Mateo
  Now we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniffed the yayo
  Thats crazy blunts, mad Ls
  My voice excels from the avenue to jail cells
  Oh my God, Im dropping shit, like a pigeon
  I hope youre listenin, smacking babies at they christenin
  Motherfuckin Biggie Smalls
  What you gonna do with it, 2Pac?
  Yeah, where the motherfuckin thugs at?
  Throw your motherfuckin middle finger
  We gonna do this shit like this
  I thank the Lord for my many blessings
  Though Im stressin, keep a vest for protection
  From the barrel of a Smith & Wesson
  And all my niggas in the pen, here we go again
  Aint nothin separating us from a MAC-10
  Born in the ghetto as a hustler
  Hold up, a straight soldier, buckin at the busters
  No matter how you try, niggas never die
  We just retaliate with hate, then we multiply
  You see me striking down the block, hittin corners
  Mobbin like a motherfucker, livin like I wanna
  And aint no stopping at the red lights
  Im sideways, Thug Life, motherfucker, crime pays
  Let the cops put they lights on; chase me, nigga!
  Zig-zaggin through the freeway; race me, nigga!
  In a high-speed chase with the law
  The realest motherfucker that you ever saw