{Verse 1: Styles P}
I been through a lot of changes
Met a lot of strangers
Outta town I got down, that's a lotta danger
10 years in the game, that's a lotta anger
Lotta wickedness
Lotta snakes, lotta fakes, lotta bitches
A lot of the little mistresses
Just trying to get you for your riches'es
But stay on point like a pencil kid
Aim it at the temple kid or don't even come outside
I said the game's all mental kid
Catch me in the rental kid
Imma show you how I ride
This is S dot P dot
Juice Bar weed spot
Pull up all good uuh
Studio, he not
I'mma make you bleed ock
Walk with a 9, so thе shit make me beebop
Time is monеy, i'm looking at the C-lock
Uncle Murda, come down with the G-lock

{Verse 2: Uncle Murda}
Aww! Aww yeah, cmon man!
You like how I do it, I do it like damn
If you ain't been through it, you wouldn't understand
I'm military minded, I don't get to relax
I got so much drama, I'm always watching my back
It's nuthin' to me though; I love the drama
I been putting the work in; go ask my Grandmama
Ever since I was little little boy
.25s and .380s was my kinda toys
If you ain't lived the life, you won't know what im talkin bout
Murda, this ain't the time to Walk It Out
You feel me; you know what I'm talking bout
Money Power Respect Murda; that's what it's all about
You don't want the barrel in your mouth
You'll be dead before the shells even pop out
I know Biggie like Biggie Baby
I like that Brooklyn boy, rolling with my man Jay-z
Ahhh!
{Verse 3: Freeway}
I'll leave your body somewhere too far to get too
You better hope them doctors can fix you
You better hope these motherfuckers'll sit through
60 seconds of your boring ass raps
Sound .45 black, done scrapped the 6 blue
Your rushing to your death, Philly Free can assist you
Put something in his chest, put the babies to bed for him
He sleeping on Philly Free, have him sleeping in Grant's tomb
You do not want it, come out of your damn room
These n***as caterpillars, they still in their cocoons
We V-12 wheelers, the engines go *VOOM* *VOOM*
Then I slide, high five the dealer
Your main chick slob nob, I provide the dinner
I was drunk and kept pumping, put my dick in her eye
She like "I'm rolling with the Roc, these guys are winners"
Philly Free cold chillin, I'm feeling this vibe
Just made 4 million, I'm feeling alive
Made my pilgrimage to Mecca, I'm still into God
Even though I talk reckless, I'm still in the mosque
Can't nobody judge me but God
Love me or slide
Used to slide smokers a rock
Slide me a 5
Now I slide through in the cockpit of a 645
Or a 6 V-12 on side
Snow cabin in Aston on sticks
Y'all bastards don't think
Free draw fast and you bastards don't blink
Cuz Free'll put that ass in a casket first thing
I rhyme with the same tenacity as Jordan
When he grabbed his first ring
I'm from Mars, you guys are Earthlings
These n***as ain't killing a thing
Heavy-weight champ of the flow is murking the game
God damn he murking the bling!
Hurting the chain!
HOLLA!
{Verse 4: Beanie Sigel}
In the commission, we ask for permission to hit him
If he don't like me, that's his problem
When the Sig spot him
Wig shot him
Dump the corpse in the Schuylkill or burn it
Identify the body by the jewels, determined
Not to see a new cell
Been in and out a few jails
The feds know me too well
Armed and dangerous, the aim is to kill on sight
(New kids see?) gang with us, brainless and kill off spite
How you wanna choose your poison
When confronted, fake ass n***as lose their voices
What happened to the killa shit?
Gorilla shit, your militant attitude
I ain't your typical rapper dude
Enter the blue flame
The Des' E spit fire like Lu Kang
Found in a hole in the desert like Hussein
That's true game
That's how I do things
Keep lames in pocket like loose chains
The real is back
Don't let the Grim Reaper kiss your cheek
The thousand-ball pallbearer lay you six feet
I got beef with Chief of Police
Cuz bike cops and flat feet scared to walk the streets
I'm waist deep in this piece like Tyrese
Move the streets like telekines' from a seat
Squeeze the life from what's ever in my reach
Kill a man from a wave of a hand; this shit is sweet
You n***as weak, you shake like the Harlem dance
When you get a glance of a real true boss
Cut from the ruggedest cloth
Will Lean Wit It, Rock Wit It
Heckler & Koch and Glock with it
Infrared beam on the stock hit it
Air compressor on the pound
You can meet me anywhere it's going down
These n***as chicken noodle soup
Caught up in the loot
Don't get cute; them killas on the loose
Shootas on the roof