[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
How real is this? New York City, How real is this? New York City
America welcome to the land of the brave
America welcome to the land of the slave
Where they do anything for money the consequences is the cage
Follow the path of a dummy hop a fence into they grave
You could either live to regret or benefit from your ways
The enemies get what they deserve the innocents get disgraced
Everything ain't all gravy baby n***as subject to change
And it gotta be the paper 'cause n***as is actin strange
I wake up to my medicine, head throbbin, heart full of rage
Feelin dirty from haze as strong as thirty grenades
When it comes to ammunition there's 30 30s and Kays
And them Trays hold me down like that Du Rag that's on ya waves bro
America welcome to the land where they kill
America welcome to the land where they steal
Where n***as'll call ya bluff 'till you let 'em know shit is real
And material shit'll make bitches head over heels
Where drama appeals to most of the kids so they watch
Where they shoot at cops, and most little n***as don't know they pops
Where peer pressure comes on you smoke weed, get bent to be cool
Where the girls lose they virginity in elementary school
Where ambulances are late, club floors get left with stains
Over stepped on sneakers, n***a what set you claim
Where n***as are ghetto fabulous pullin' them nice whips
Where cops'll fuck you up with flashlights and night sticks whoa
America welcome to the land where they frame you
America welcome to the land where they hang you
Where it doesn't pay to live without sin don't be a angel
In a regular day just chillin a bullet can rearrange you
Where cats'll stab you the first time they get the chance too
The envious ways of a coward won't do nothing but amp you
I'm from South Side Jamaica where convicts and stars are born
Where you can wake up in the morning and ya brand new cars gone
Where n***as that you grew up with are speedin' and smokin' crack
Play Russian Roulette with they dreams and there's no way to get 'em back
Where the hood rats'll surround you to concentrate on ya stack
Its kinda hard to keep ya cool when there's constant hate on ya back
[Chorus: Lloyd Banks & Tony Yayo]
New York City that's where I stay
Where every day is foul play (Yea!)
We got ours so you should have yours (Ah-huh)
Cause it won't be no warnings when its time to go to war (What!)
New York City that's where I'm from (Uh-huh)
I got my vest I got my gun
And you should run
If you ain't got one (Yea!)
Cause it won't be no warnings when (Yo Banks, let me put, let me shine) them n***a's [?] come

[Verse 3: Tony Yayo]
Yo Banks, let me shine
I got *Timberwolves in Minnesota*
And got them *New York Knicks* up in that baking soda homie
I cross over with Rugers in *Vancouver when its grizzly*
In a *Portland Trailblazer* if your ass don't hit me
You get shot in your *cavs in Cleveland*
Start bleedin', and now you wanna bitch and can't ball all season
Yo I'm rollin' *phillies up with the 76ers*
And got my *heat up in Miami* on the beach with my n***as
And them hoes from *Atlanta is hawkin*
Cause they see them *Denver nuggets* on my neck while my ass is walkin'
Stash the gun
Now I'm in *Phoenix sun*
Cause I'm a *Golden State warrior* that stay on the run
I'm in the truck
Countin' up *Milwakee bucks*
And I stay with the ratchet cause that's what's up
I got a *wizard in DC* that chef up o's
So I'm livin' like a *king in Sacramento*
When I'm out in *Chicago I'm on some bullshit*
You know semi automatic I stay with a full clip
With them *Houston rockets*
Baby nine in my pocket
Hypnotic and balm chronic
Bang you with the *sonics*
I'm that n***a that'll *Los Angeles clip you*
Slow your *pace in Indiana* when you countin' them figures
Yo I'm out in *New Orleans whoadie duckin' them warrants
You get stung by my Mac like a batch of hornets*
Time to splurge like the *San Antonio Spurs*
I got rings like a *Laker* bubble *celtic birds*
Disappear like *magic, Dallas mavericks* in the gat
And I'll *Detroit piss* on you while you lyin on your back
Strip shorty out her bra you know I get ass
Cause the kid big ballin' like the *Utah Jazz*
*Toronto Raptors* style Yay is a vet
I move like a *Net*
So cut that check n***a
[Outro: Tony Yayo]
It's the playoffs n***a
Hahah, ya'll n***as ain't think I could rap like that huh?
I got Lloyd Banks with me
Blue Hefner n***a
It's the Talk Of New York, matter fact I'll change my shit to Top Of New York, n***a
Thoughts Of A Predicate Felon, June
Ya'll n***as can't rap, ya'll ain't got no money
Broke ass n***as
It's the real Top Of New York
N***as tryna bite my name and shit while I'm gone huhha
Top Of New York, n***a I'm changin' my shit, a.k.a. 12 12's 58 58's n***a
Huh, huh, I did that just cause the playoffs is right now
You bumass n***as
Curtis "Interscope" Jackson, n***a
He shootin a million, a 60 million, matter fact a hunnid million dollar movie right now, huhha
My man Buck, G Unit South, Buck Marley
Sha Millions, n***a
Talk Of New York Tony Yayo, Olivia
It don't stop
We got video games
Movies, liquor deals
And ya'll n***as is mad
Huh?
You bumass n***as, I hear these bumass n***as rhymin on freestyles, ya'll n***as is fuckin' trash
I just did that to show ya'll n***as how to rap
Tony Yayo, blueprint follow it, I follow 50's blueprint, n***a
Yeah I'm poppin' shit n***a
Cause my mixtape is better than your fuckin album, pussy
Fuck, and n***as better, and my date is June 27th if you ain't know
If you come that month you better push back
Cause my shit is straight crack n***a
I might call myself Tony Crack no no Tony Dope
Nah Tony Yayo n***a
Ha ha ha hah
Yeah
G Unit
Better ask somebody n***a