[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]

Nigga

You know it's a pimpin affair when the car enters

While you give your hoes mostly ice like bartenders

We shop heavy; a bunch of hard spenders

I'm a giant

In rap it's difficult for small forwards to guard centers

Don't let me hit you with the cali bro

I'm raining with the record of a street legend

And you ain't up my alimo

My nigga buggin' off that tan grass and hash

It'll cut a nigga's shit quicker than Grand Master Flash

Your shit ain't gonna never pop like 10 gold chains

That's why your bitch blowin' on me like Nintendo games

I ain't surprised most these hoes been the same since school

Doing more bending over than a game of pool

Get your own bread

Don't sweat it I got some

Now guns are like tattoos nigga, even Bow Wow's got one

You fuckin' with a champion

If I can't do it, it can't be done

Why you think we' number one?

[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]

A lot of this niggas be runnin' with their crew frontin'

Perfectly honest

You niggas ain't gonna do nothin'

Chill yall...

And my nigga you can hold that

If you don't want to feel the ratchet

Nigga fall back

[Verse 2: Fabolous]

Right now, they're trying to hit me with a mob of feds...

They say I got that coke responsible

For that shit Whitney and Bobby said

Plus I got a chick with me that can slob a head

With a looser neck

Than the dolls with the bobble heads

She do her job in bed...

And slide down polls

Quick enough to change in the Batman and Robin's threads

The word has probably spread

If you hustle and don't want to end up in a lobby dead

Go and get a job instead

Cause if I slid through your area...

It'll probably be with them crazy little kids from Liberia

Who don't think of bids when they airin' ya?

Cause they so hungry, for a peeking of a fridge they will bury ya

You think you hot cause your chain hangs from neck to navel

When you're just another writer for your record label

Look how empty your pockets are

I can tell you never had 100 Grand

Unless it was a chocolate bar

I keep a full clip of shells that explode

Cause the canaries on my wrist look like the yellow brick road

And now they're bringing me models from Europe

And jars of hydro just as sticky as a bottle of syrup

I'm on the move like I ride a van

And I can walk through any gang territory

With the same suit as Spiderman

I'm a winner with my first two

And I'm stunting until my death

So I want spinners on my Hurse too

[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]

A lot of this niggas be runnin' with their crew frontin'

Perfectly honest

You niggas ain't gonna do nothin'

Chill yall...

And my nigga you can hold that

If you don't want to feel the ratchet

Nigga fall back

[Verse 3: Busta Rhymes]

See now we own buildings

Totin' the Eiffel Towers

And if you violate

I'll put a hole in your cauliflower

Stacks of Serena Williams paper

Pushing a mean coup

I'll vegetable you niggas

Like a broccoli bean soup

Von Dutch flossin ass niggas, believe me dude

We jiggalo's dummy

With Emillio, that's the fast money

Look and see the zone that we in

Sipping yak from the 1800's

Specially brewed from the barrels of Napoleon

You never knew the daughter split niggas this bad

Left on colostomy diets and wrapped up in a shit bag

Rock white fitted's

White T's, 2-X

Coppin whips from overseas

Can't even drive the shit up in the U.S

Look cause we ain't hit you

Nigga thinking he blessed

Thanking the Lord like he was lucky

I'm sorry little nigga, you next

It's like robbing a nigga bitch

You better run in for before

I put this faggot to sleep

Countin' sheep by the hundreds

But now, you and your little friend dead

You nigga's think something's sweet

I'll sour your shit

Like a box of little Lemon Heads

About 80 niggas faces will leave you stitches

And have you looking worse

Than baby's born from retarded bitches

Then I take the whole shit

Even your small chain

And have the streets talking about me

Like sports announcers for ball games

A lot of niggas wonder why my shit stay stickin'

Cause I be talking greasy

Like I was just eating Church's Chicken

[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]

A lot of this niggas be runnin' with their crew frontin'

Perfectly honest

You niggas ain't gonna do nothin'

Chill yall...

And my nigga you can hold that

If you don't want to feel the ratchet

Nigga fall back