Lyrics:

Woman singing in background] [Intro: Jim Jones] You see man Let's get off of that lame man Let's get into what we like to do man This what we do preferably man We bring that powerful music to your table man Killa, let 'em know something [Cam'Ron] Young Guru, Just Blaze, Killa, Diplomats, huh Juelz Santana, Jim Jones, Freaky Zekey Hoffa, Dash, huh, Killa, huh Ya'll niggas dreamed it, I have seen it Body warm, heart anemic (I really mean it) Coke, a nigga steamed it, fiends I leaned 'em Beemer leaned it (I really mean it) Guns, really beaming, rarely miss, what's really good? Bikes, wheelie and creamin' (I really mean it) I'm a genius, poppadopalis, never leaning On your Zenith (I really mean it) Killa, bag me more mutts, they actually all ducks Caddy more trucks, its daddy Warbucks And you Orphan Annie Ma, take off your panties Sea soft and sandy (I really mean it) Yeah, let's get lost in candy I got lost in Boston, Austin, flossin' of course Miami Reno, Nevada sip pino colada Mama I'm seen on the Prada (I really mean it) I rock more in Phoenix road to glory Seen it, you seen it (I really mean it) The game abuse it, its pain in music But this year, wrist wear remains the bluest I get lame and lose it, beef came to do it Aim and shoot it, flames 'til your brains the fluid Ya'll just kids, see what I just did, take a couple bars off Let Just {Blaze} live [Jim Jones] Yeah, now that's powerful music man You need to pop something and roll something (I really mean it) Killa we did it man, I got your back forever, Dip Set (I really mean it) And them lames, we pop them sideways and drag them faggots (I really mean it) [Cam'Ron] Ok, we back in Mami listen (I really mean it) Hey yo lock my garage, rock my massage F**k it, bucket by Osh Kosh Bgosh Golly I'm gully, look at his galoshes Gucci, gold, platinum plaque collages From collabos, ghost writing for assholes Want to use my brain, than give Killa mad dough It's all good, increase Killa cash flow Increase my fame, that's why Killa smash hoes You'll get side swiped, look at my life First movie ever, merked out Mekhi Phife(r) And papi got jerked out of pies twice Dip Set, we working with five dice Cee-lo and craps, c-notes and stacks I send bodies with, read this note attached Ya youngin' f**ked with boys in the hood Gave her a son like Ricky, from 'Boyz in the Hood' On the couch bloody, old lady sighing Wifey screaming (I really mean it) Pissy little baby crying F**k upped man shit, there you seen it (I really mean it) Fam man, you terry cloth, that mean you very soft Gravy Mercedes, add the cranberry sauce [Jim Jones] Yeah, gangstas ride man, Flex we got you, guns up (I really mean it) And all my ladies man, the ghettos a diddy, I need you, I want you (I really mean it) Oh, pop something, roll something, get twisted, that's on Jim nigga (I really mean it) Harlem! Man we here to stay, it's nothing left to say man (I really mean it) Eastside, and as for that lame man, now see I ain't even gone say your last name 'cause that's mine, I catch you, you know what it is You faggot! I ain't gone get to hyped over you man, we gone bury you Holla! See if you bout it, bout it 'cause we is (I really mean it) NYC!