[Verse 1: Pretty Blanco]

Yeah, nah, nah

You ain't never run into a goonie in the boonies, better hope I let my toolie out (Huh)

But I ain't never lackin', boy, you actin' when I catch you up in traffic, I'ma put one in your dome (Pop pop)

'Cause the day I lost my brother, I was sittin' with my mother and she told me I would never be alone (Yeah)

So I grabbed that four-five, why should homie be alive when he got my best friend? Now he gone

No, this shit just so wrong (Yeah)

Remember his cousin was callin' my phone (Brrrp)

Like, Blanco, let's get him, I know where he headed

He need to be deaded, let's go

So we hit the road, gone off them shrooms like I'm Toad (Whoop)

Hoppin' to Fourth, that four-forty-four close

It's on, soon as you see 'em, let go

Reloaded it and dump it some more (B-r-r-r-p)

So we posted up by the store

Freezin', it's twenty below

Blowin' this weed by the O

We just 'bout to leave and then, yo, I think I just seen me that fiend that hit Gene and my bro

He's right on the corner with Steven and Joe

Now it's open season, I'm fiendin' to blow

So Lee hop up outta the whip, when he let that shit rip, I saw all of 'em three on the floor, whoa

But I guess what can I say?

I hit JFK and was back to LA (Whoo)

A thief in the night and a thief in the day

So I take what I want, while I'm chiefin' the J

Huh, while I'm chiefin' the J

Be careful out here in them streets where you play

Be careful out here when you speak what you say

'Cause your ass will get cut up, the meat, the filet, like whoa

[Chorus]

We killin' these lames, so my killers insane

Watch how we killin' the game-we killin' the game

We be killin' the brain and got me not feelin' a thang

We killin' these lames, so my killers insane

Watch how we killin' the game-we killin' the game

We be killin' the brain and got me not feelin' a thang

[Verse 2: Method Man]

I'm back in my stash, we back in the lab

Got killas in back of your pad with ratchets and masks

We 'bout to catch us a bag,I'm fire, no matches or gas

I'm mashin' the gas (Skrt), I done mastered the class

Do not give these rappers a pass

These rappers is trash

I give these rappers the drag then ask, "Is you mad or you mad?" (Rah)

Haters, I'm flickin' 'em all

Critics have written 'em off

Trick, I'ma boss

I might not be bigger than Ross but still might be bigger than yours

I smell like the vault

She smellin' like Christian Dior

But we don't be kissin' them broads, uh-uh, not at all

I mean it, I seen it before

Their momma a queen like Afeni Shakur

Meth know the meanin' of floor

They fiend to be king of New York

But why if the kingdom is poor?

Now we keepin' score

Don't know what you figure me for

Who told you the city was yours? (Aah)

Round of applause and you get around just because (Ha)

You wasn't down for the cause

Provin' the form, hope it ain't you in the morgue

See, this what I do when I'm bored

Nothin' to do with the law

Got nothin' to do wit'cha boy

The cops'll put two in your boy

Your day'll be worn for sure

Soon as my key in the door and I get my feet on the floor

Believe it, I'm eatin' some more

Beastin' some more

Beef, it don't need to be thawed (Rah)

This is the reason I'm raw