[Intro: Young Chris]
Yeah, Young Gunnaz
Generation Next, the next generation
Big Face, Boola
Holla at 'cha boooys!
(Okay) C and Neef (Okay)
N***as know what it is
State, State Prop Chain Gang
(Sigel) We got jeopardy n***a

[Verse 1: Young Chris]
Radios don't give a n***a airplay
Knowing them, they got to hear Jay
(This summer's our summer, gotta tell em to wait, oh)
It's our turn time to attack the game
Buck no fallin back again
These n***as better respect our game, or the TEC I aim
Don't be scared, be aware of the rap Bron James
And even when I couldn't back my game
I had a lot of women workin like Maxwell sing
Hung around a lot of bad karma
My brother did it, so for me it sort of bagged drama, it's just the business
Had to lace up my boots, switch up my hoopties
Damn I can't stand it when a n***a a groupie
Lookin at me like his n***as'll shoot me
When they should be tryna get at a cutie, I got 50 to do em
Kill em all cause them n***as'll sue me
And we give a fuck about them, tell them 50'll sue them
All my n***as bust, witnessed a whole lot of death in our young ages
Y'all see the stress in our young faces
Y'all don't understand me inside, everytime I see his family I cry
So everytime I pump my hand up to God
Think of him all night with a tight grip on my heater
And I pray that he all right hoping I meet em
[Chorus: Young Chris]
We pouring liquor on the curb for our n***as up above
When it crash through the cement, that's our way of showing love
State Prop, you know us, if not, you heard of us
Tracks murdered, I'm far from raps, time we serving it
We still'll dress up for them clubs or grip up on them snubs
Find out where them n***as rest, straight hit them n***as up
State Prop, you know us, if not you heard of us
Tracks murdered, I'm far from raps, time we serving it

[Interlude: Neef Buck]
This summer's our summer
Neef Buck, come release some of that hunger

[Verse 2: Neef Buck]
What's the waiting for, n***a we ready
What's them shanks for, n***a we heavy
Play the Range boy, aiming steady
Make his brains look like spaghetti
Shotgun playa, I'm the black Jim Kelly
Plus I heard they be out on the daily
Have his brain hanging out of his skelly, banging out on the daily
They sick, that is we got guns that crack ribs
And we comin, you scared, you don't know what this is
It's more heat, homie we in the mix
You yappin' yo lips, we stackin these chips, k idnappin yo bitch
We got it, hustle, don't knock it
Yours ain't sellin too much on the strip that's yo problem
I'll show you how to grind from the bottom
The beef jump, semiautomatic or revolve em
It's Neef Buck, n***as always said I was a problem
The heat tucked, gotta let it out if it's a problem
Show you how to do this thing, straight through the lane
Get straight to the change, State Prop Chain Gang
And I'm ridin, they frontin, they dyin
I'm dumping slugs out the eagle, it ain't bout nothin
[Chorus: Young Chris]
We pouring liquor on the curb for our n***as up above
When it crash through the cement, that's our way of showing love
State Prop, you know us, if not, you heard of us
Tracks murdered, I'm far from raps, time we serving it
We still'll dress up for them clubs or grip up on them snubs
Find out where them n***as rest, straight hit them n***as up
State Prop, you know us, if not you heard of us
Tracks murdered, I'm far from raps, time we serving it

[Interlude: Beanie Sigel]
This summer's our summer
Beanie Mack, come release some of that hunger

[Verse 3: Beanie Sigel]
I got you scrap, commit suicide
All y'all need to kill yourself, go head scrap, all you'll do is die
Cause fuckin with Mack is do or die
You know me scrap, and that cat tell the truest lies
Circle your block in the bluest five
How I pop two a dime, uzi pop out two a time
Yeah, that's usually how I do it, ma
Pull the [?] before I use it to em to unlock
Get hype right before I do a crime
Then talk to him calm, put the toolie to his spine
Show 'em what the whippings and the pills'll do
Little dress, little wig, little heels'll do
Big tech, little sig tinted wheels'll do
Scrap check I turn a mil to a billion too
Get the point, Amil
Muthafucka you can't point when I hit you, bitch I'll kill you too
By the way, send the tellers through
Sharp crooks and we eating, get cooks and the dealers through
Cause we ridin (they frontin), they dyin, we dumpin
Young Gunnaz, Sigel that ain't bout nothin n***a
[Chorus: Young Chris]
We pouring liquor on the curb for our n***as up above
When it crash through the cement, that's our way of showing love
State Prop, you know us, if not, you heard of us
Tracks murdered, I'm far from raps, time we serving it
We still'll dress up for them clubs or grip up on them snubs
Find out where them n***as rest, straight hit them n***as up
State Prop, you know us, if not you heard of us
Tracks murdered, I'm far from raps, time we serving it

[Outro: Young Chris]
This summer's our summer (WHAT, STATE PROP)
Come release some of that hunger
(The streets want us back, gunna!)