[Verse 1: Cam'ron]

Yo, y'all niggas with the muscle, y'all get clapped in the tussle

I'm a hustler, not a rapper, it's just that rap is my hustle

Show a Digga know, yo

We the first teen millionaires in Harlem since Rich and Po

You don't know? Get to know

Ain't takin' shit to blow, Jenny Jones, 'Rock N' Jock'

Right back to the block to clock, it ain't hop and scotch

It's Pop and scotch, in a bar, they go shot for shot

Matter of fact, outside the bar, they go shot for shot

Me and my co-D on a O-Z, we go rock for rock

Me and my co-D on a Rollie, we go rock for rock

You souped up, think I'm easy to touch?

Then you been watchin' a little bit of TV too much

Lots of rhymes, sure you see my ass lots of times

On the corner still, like I ain't got a dime

Autographs, not the kind to be signing the crap

"Take a CD," slash "Here's a dime of this crack"

[Hook]

Nigga double up, keep all guns double clutch

Shoot at yo' feet, make you jump like double dutch

New York, baby, for you matchbox niggas

Chicken wing, french fry, snack box niggas

[Verse 2: Cam'ron]

I know looking at my jewelry is scarring yo' brain

Not to mention, Jada Pinkett over parking the Range

(Yo, that's Will Smith girl) Naw, she's part of my chain

Pardon my game, car gettin' washed in the rain

Runnin' yo' trap, that'll get you one in yo' back

The hood that I have, had to take the good with the bad

Like Joe on the run, plus his fuckin P.O., it's done

Low on his funds, better get the coke or the guns

Word to the wise, Killa Cam, I heard of them guys

Diplomat, Chris Black, yo, convertible fives

Rims on the wheel, to drive down shows in the South

Rap ain't that great neither, I got coke to give out

Coke to give out, motherfuckin' smoke to give out

Hoes to give out, naw, we ain't over this route

Back on the street, Jimmy get the crack on the street

Tour over, motherfucker, let's get back on our feet

[Hook]

Nigga double up, keep all guns double clutch

Shoot at yo' feet, make you jump like double dutch

New York, baby, for you matchbox niggas

Chicken wing, french fry, snack box niggas

[Verse 3: Juelz Santana]

I fucked up, let the streets got a hold of me

Now they got me trapped in, and they holdin' me

I'm stressed out, why else would I smoke the weed?

Every day, papi tell me he got coke for cheap

Broke as shit, thats why I hold the fifth

Send niggas to snatch your chain and choke your bitch

Rope your nigga, leave 'em with an open liver

I'm the reason why it's gonna get cold this winter

I done seen niggas standin' on these blocks for days

Pump work out of buildings, dimes and treys

Fuck A&R's that want me to dance and pose

I rather stand on poles with grams and O's

White shirt, construction Timbs, a pair Girbauds

And white powder stuff, that'll clear ya nose, faggot

[Hook]

Nigga double up, keep all guns double clutch

Shoot at yo' feet, make you jump like double dutch

New York, baby, for you matchbox niggas

Chicken wing, french fry, snack box niggas