[Verse 1: Buckshot]
Check how I kick it, when I was wicked, around the way
Hold my Tec, 'cause my n***as pump by day
Drugs and thieves hit the eve of the night
N***as who fake real, come on a real flight
Six feet deep in the creep
Mic technique got a n***a locked down for a week
Word is bond, shit is on like this
Gotta move, 'cause I'm on a n***a hit list
You know the kid with the rock from up the block
Hit him up with the Glock now his pops on my rooftop
Ridiculous to think you're hittin me
You're not hittin' me you're gettin' me upset with the threat
But I'm a little n***a from the heart of Bucktown
My stomping ground is Brooklyn bound
Fuck what you heard, it's about what you hit
And if that's your girl, then your bitch ain't shit
Fuckin' all my n***as 'cause they know Black Moon
Shit iz real yo, pass that boom

[Bridge]
Ayo, I gotta dime bag, kid, word up
(Fuck that) Yeah, yeah, yeah that's that
(Fuckin' cravin' for it man)
Smif-N-Wessun
Take two and pass, muthafucka!
USA
Slobbin' ass n***a
(Pass the weed, kid)
[Verse 2: Buckshot]
Never parlay without a L
Inhale the first hit for all my n***as locked in jail
Then go for dolo on a cool André
Shoot the wack in the back and I'm aight all day
It's hot, shit is on, ask the cop
Tell the dreadlock that I rule the block
Ease back, 'nuff man ah die like that
An yah pussyhole ex-man shot in your back
Word to my hard rocks on Franklin Ave
Feel the bloodbath of the aftermath
The wrath of Duck Down, Bucktown is real
Word to my n***a 5 Ft, hold the steel
On a n***a who faked the jack, yo lift it back
Fuck where you're from, it's about where you're at
Where your gat? Whenever you're in Bucktown
Shit iz real, all you hear is the sound

[Bridge]
Word is bond (yeah, yeah word)
Y'knaamsayin?
Whole muthafuckin' Bed-Stuy frontin'
(Yeah kid)
Knaamsayin?
Dis lil Hav' (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Y'knaamsayin?
Mobb Deep in the house
And my man Buckshot
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Shit iz real, kid
T's in the house
(Shit iz definitely real, kid)
[Verse 3: Buckshot]
I'm real, shit iz real, fuck the raw deal
Pick up the bitch in the back by the field
On the word, shit is heard in two-third
Pump herb to my n***as from a nickel bag of absurd
On-The-Real is locked down, what?
Beast can't step one foot in Bucktown
Mr. Ripper, hit your back up with holes
All my n***as orgy mad loads
Knows, all about the breaker of the cash
N***a nasty-ass, sittin' all on my Bill Blass
I got a vibe in sight, hmmm
Maybe 'cause I had to get it on last night
With a n***a from up the block, who walked the rock, realer
But in a knuckle game I'm a head sweller
And when it comes to loading clips
N***as talk shit get hit with the Tec in the hip
Straight from Bucktown, U.S.A
All my n***as must represent e'ryday
On the steel, shit iz real word to feel
Shit iz real, yo shit iz mad real

[Outro]
Shit iz mad real (What, what!)
Back up, we gon' flow
Muthafucka!!!
(Moon, Moon! What, what!)
Fuck you!
What, I'll punch you in your muthafuckin' face, what!
All you bitch-ass n***as
You wanna jam with me?
(What, what!)
We don't need that here
We don't need that here
(All you bitch-ass n***as!)
(All you bitch-ass n***as, what!)
(What, what!)
Wut the deal?
Wut the deal?
Bucktown