[Verse 1: Billy Danze]
You n***as fakin'
I'm not your regular rap singer
A bell ringer, yeah, a DOWNTOWN SWINGA'
And if I got to use my pistol to dismiss you herbs
With something to prove
Kid I ain't got nothing to lose
It's Billy Danze, holding up the slack
So jump if you want chump, cause I bust caps
CLACK CLACK! Salute to all my CD's
Hill figga' n***a drink brew and puff weed
Yeah we like it raw, plus we keep it real
The B-I-Double L-Y, and what you feel?
That I will flip the script and fled from the scene
I'm still in the 'ville, I'm still with my home team
Coming through with the crew, you can't accept it
From CROOKLYN! Home where it's definitely hectic
Before rapping I was capping, 1-7-1-8 gun slinger
Bill, a Downtown Swinga'

[Verse 2: Lil' Fame]
It's 1994 motherfuckers gets slayed
And my freestyles are no longer freestyles
Cause now I'm getting paid
I be the same Lil' Fame, ain't a damn thing changed
Except I smoke a $20 bag of weed a day
The downtown swinga', the ex-crack slinger
The ruckus bringer, the motherfucking bell ringer
Cause Lil' Fame ain't taking the bull
And when I die make sure you
Bury me with a cassette of Paid in Full
Kid, fuck all the flamma-lamma
I'm from the place where n***as be jumping up out of the bammas
Clapping n***as with the hammers
Enemies squeeze triggers, n***as get bumped off and dumped off
So I'm strapped to clap whenever the shit jump off
My missions is letting competition know the deal
Who we be (M.O.P REPRESENTING THE REAL)
You see it, I be it, and at the same time bring a
Ruckus sound for ground, it's the DOWNTOWN SWINGA'
*scratching M.O.P.*

[Verse 3: Lil' Fame & Billy Danze]
I'm known for wrecking microphones
M.O.P.'s the fattest as a matter of fact the maddest, the baddest
Herbs, you know the status
I do a bad job, a real job
You wouldn't be safe with God
Because I'm moving with the ill squad
Rappers come frontin', ain't nothing weak here
Ain't nothing sweet here, breaking comp down like a beach chair
*CLACK-CLACK, CLACK-CLACK, CLACK-CLACK, CLACK-CLACK, CLACK-CLACK, CLACK-CLACK
BLOCKA-BLOCKA, BLOCKA-BLOCKA, BLOCKA-BLOCKA, BLOCKA-BLOCKA, BLOCKA-BLOCKA, BLAOW*
The M.O.P. is going back, way before a herb got a gat
Whenever it was a crisis pulling heists kept us phat
The Brownvillians is illin', kid, it gets deep
That's why I tell motherfuckers to back and play me feet
We workin' with 9's, TECs, IMFs, MACs
Hammers with some power that will eat right through your back
Until the death, until the day I'm dead from flipping at someone's Nina
Chill, a DOWNTOWN SWINGA'

*scratching M.O.P.*

[Outro]:
Uh, check it out y'all
Downtown Swingas up in the house, representin' Brooklyn, Brownsville, word up, Southeast New York, Gang Starr, Bed-Stuy, no doubt, Brownsville, my man Biggie Smalls, hold me down...