[Intro: Kanye West]
We in the streets, playa, get ya mail
It's only two places you end up, either dead or in jail
Still nowhere to go, still nowhere to go

[Chorus: Kanye West]
Now throw ya hands up, hustlers, busters, boosters, hoes
Everybody, fuck that
Still nowhere to go
Still nowhere to go

[Verse 1: Mos Def]
Two words, United States, no love, no breaks
Low brow, high stakes, crack smoke, black folks
Big Macs, fat folks, ecstasy capsules
Presidential scandals, everybody move
Two words, Mos Def, K. West, hot shit
Calm down, get back, ghetto people, got this
Game ’pon lock shit, gun 'pon cock shit
We won't stop shit, everybody move
Two words, BK, NY, Bed Stuy
Too harsh, too hungry, too many, that’s why
These streets know game, can't ball, don't play
Heavy traffic, one lane, everybody move
Two words, Mos Def, Black Jack, hot shit
Calm down, get back, ghetto people, got this
Game 'pon lock, gun 'pon cock
We won't stop, everybody move
[Chorus: Kanye West (w/ Harlem Boys Choir)]
Now throw ya hands up, hustlers, busters, boosters, hoes
(Throw your hands up high)
Everybody, fuck that
Still nowhere to go, still nowhere to go
And keep ya hands up, hustlers
Busters, boosters, hoes ('Til they reach the sky)
Everybody, fuck that
Still nowhere to go, still nowhere to go

[Verse 2: Freeway]
Two words, free way, two letters, AR
Turn y'all rap n***as to two words, fast runners
Like Jackie Joyner, you better sleep with your burner
The heat skeet, blow a reef through ya car, my God
Two words, no guns, break arms
Break necks, break backs, Steven Seagal
Free, young boss, freshman of the Roc
With the beef in the pot Jay sent for his dogs
To brawl, forget ya squad, better fend for yourself
Have you screamin’ out four words, "send for the law", uh
Two words, Freeway slightly retarded
Fuck around, throw a clip in ya artist, leave with his broad

[Outro: Mos Def (w/ Harlem Boys Choir)]
Red, white, blue, black (Throw your hands up)
Calm down, move back
Motherfuckers askin’ "who is that?"
You know it's the almighty Black Jack
Mos Def, K. West
Ghetto people get this shit off ya chest
North to the south, to the east, to the west
Black Jack Johnson, it’s no contest
(High) And show it to 'em like
[Chorus: Kanye West (w/ Harlem Boys Choir)]
Now throw ya hands up, hustlers, busters, boosters, hoes
(Throw your hands up high) Everybody, fuck that