Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?
Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?
We gonna do it like this
Anytime youre ready, check it
I got seven MAC-11s, about eight 38s
Nine 9s, ten MAC-10s, the shits never ends
You cant touch my riches
Even if you had MC Hammer and them 357 bitches
Biggie Smalls, the millionaire, the mansion, the yacht
The two weed spots, the two hot Glocks
Thats how I got the weedspot
I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb spread
Little Gotti got the shotty to your body
So dont resist, or you might miss Christmas
I tote guns, I make number runs
I give MCs the runs drippin when I throw my clip in
The AK, I slay from far away
Everybody hit the D-E-C-K
My slow flows remarkable, peace to Mateo
Now we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniffed the yayo
Thats crazy blunts, mad Ls
My voice excels from the avenue to jail cells
Oh my God, Im dropping shit, like a pigeon
I hope youre listenin, smacking babies at they christenin
Motherfuckin Biggie Smalls
What you gonna do with it, 2Pac?
Yeah, where the motherfuckin thugs at?
Throw your motherfuckin middle finger
We gonna do this shit like this
I thank the Lord for my many blessings
Though Im stressin, keep a vest for protection
From the barrel of a Smith & Wesson
And all my niggas in the pen, here we go again
Aint nothin separating us from a MAC-10
Born in the ghetto as a hustler
Hold up, a straight soldier, buckin at the busters
No matter how you try, niggas never die
We just retaliate with hate, then we multiply
You see me striking down the block, hittin corners
Mobbin like a motherfucker, livin like I wanna
And aint no stopping at the red lights
Im sideways, Thug Life, motherfucker, crime pays
Let the cops put they lights on; chase me, nigga!
Zig-zaggin through the freeway; race me, nigga!
In a high-speed chase with the law
The realest motherfucker that you ever saw