[40 seconds of ad libs to open]

Fat Joe, Joe Crack, shit's all the same
Old rusty ass block from which I came
Fat boy big dreams, Mac-10, the vest
When Mac-10 shoot teams try to shoot up the set
But I'm a G n***a, I'll loosen the Tec
Wet the whole block, sip Grey Goose in the jet
Pzhooom... back to the Boogie
Backpack rappers they should have a plaque in the Boogie of me~!!!
You know why? Number one hustler
I opened up the floodgates, my "Flow Joe" customers
[laughing] We all about the gunplay
But still take time out to pray every Sunday

[Chorus: various samples scratched]

The watch is sick, the chain is Alaska
Whip so many (P's) now they callin me the +Master+
UNGHHHH! Thank God for that white
I've been slingin it all day, we cookin it all night
It's on with the don, never let shit slide
Have your ass wear a patch like Slick Rick's eye
Talk money, there's so much money, I can't even count
Gotta put it on a scale, ten grand weigh a ounce
Same corner all week, got the scene closed off
Should be draft in the league the way I pass those off
Coca! Now you know it's me
I was always G, you a sometimes thug
You fake hustle in your hustle and you sometimes drug
You ask if a n***a kill yeah I sometimes does, CRACK!
[Chorus]

Primo whattup my n***a, ha ha
We had to touch it again you heard me
"Shit Is Real" you heard me
Shit on these fuck-boys, you heard me?
Thank God for that whiiiiiiiite
Crack! Coca! Krillz-mania
Macho whattup n***a?
(Big L rest in peace...)