[Intro: Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, U-God]

Let me— Let me hold that

One for you, one for me (True)

Two for you, one— two for me

What?

Three for you

Nigga get— get the— Man, I'll smack— (Fuck is— out of here with all that shit)

Smack fire out your fucking ass

What the fuck you think this is, man?

Get the fuck up out of here man (Chill, chill)

So, yo, matter of fact, the man is back (Stick this man head out over a fucking fire!)

Shit, alright— This ain't even enough bread right here, this ain't enough

We going to shoot right over there (Fuck that man, yo)

And, yo, them niggas got the big cream over there, just chill (Alright, let's get this cash, and move nigga)

Spark it, right out the tropical, kid

Alright, don't play me like I got a flowerpot head, kid (*Loading clip*), on the real, man

Just chill, let's go get this money fast, son

I know how we got to do this, kid (*Gunshots*), trust this (Alright, scrungy-head motherfuckers)

[Verse 1: Raekwon]

Lay on the crime scene, sipping fine wines, pulling nines on

UFOs, taking they fly clothes, they eyes closed

We getting loot, no doubt, check the word of mouth

Unheard about, guns go off and now a murder route

I'm out, my raps play the part like a Get Smart secret agent

In a maze and style's blazing

Johnny Blaze and Tony Starks in the Days Inn

And Rhyming, my nigga Lou Diamond with Robert F

We like Meth to go and fuck with Noodles

Having them poodles on the lockdown, buying me

Amarettos and chewables, smacking pharmaceutical

Rap niggas on dust and woos

Yo, I told you some killed, robbed and fold

The goal's untold, fuck it, it beats parole

So stroll marvelous, soul controller of the globe blow

Goddamn, I got it sewn and yo

What up wop? Pop the suitcase high and we can talk

You can walk out the fucking building and get caught

Save the fully inflatable, rap relatable

Drug relatable, niggas here to play with you

A hundred dollar Rottweiler, go to spot sellers

Guns and Glocks for them niggas who got props

Off top jail niggas get mad bigger and yo

Mail a guy about a hundred pictures

Word to mama, this rap wonder rhymer team got drama

Comma, blunt smoke real-ass marijuana

Chef Maranzano boats across the Verrazano

Immaculate, bust off my gun so accurate

And get cream in the cuisine of Queens

I told you, money skated with night beams and two rings

[Interlude: Raekwon & Ghostface Killah]

Crazy fag, I'm getting ready to do this shit (Sniff mad shit)

Man, niggas know not to step on this shit

[Verse 2: Ghostface Killah]

Who's the knucklehead wanting respect?

Chop his fingers in the drug game, money well-known

Lead singer, humdinger, flash is the aftermath, here's his photograph

Run up in his lab, take off the mask, Chas, and think fast

Don't laugh, bag the cash, grab the hash, don't forget his stash

Grab the tear gas and place it in his face fast

At full blast (*Speeding car passing*)

Then skate to the next gate further upstate

I heard they got crazy weight bagged up by the cakes in

Crates like disco breaks, yo look out for jakes

Give it all it takes, let's burn the place before we motivate

Yo, Blake, nigga, don't fake, rape his mate

If the bitch scream, for God's sake grab the grey tape

It's by the plate with the blow crushed up with the flakes

Killer snakes, four bodies found floating in lakes

Drug related paper talking about the kids who didn't make it

Hits without a trace, never seen the bricks, see Rae and Ghostface

Congratulations, Chef, let's celebrate and sniff an eighth (*Tires screeching*)

[Verse 3: U-God]

The rap scar is on, rap Parmesan, poke on, put it on, seal it on

We're silicone, spark it on your talkathon

This rap phenomenon to correspond took the arms

Hit me on the hip and horns, rap chaperone

Scars, tones, bar thrown, war tones, raw tones

Blowing out their jawbones, but your rap's fraudulent

Plug in these rap coordinates, it's reinforced with suspense

Be on your rap sword defense

These microphone professional, sensational, fully operational

I got niggas here to play with you, you know the steez

You know my whole program, brothers from the no-lands

All we want is the G's, guns and grams

Living fat like the Hoffa, mafia, sipping, eating pastas

Laying in the house telling the seeds about the sagas

Before we got dramatic and thoughts got sporadic

We grabbed golden tablets and quick guarded the Abbots

Slugs hit the Pelle, punch hopes into the belly

Suckers tried to knock me out the box like Skelly

I smoke the weed trees, I drop top to the breeze

Honey dip spending G's on nails and hair weave

The crime boss taking no loss, excessive force

We can play the A-Train back of the iron horse

[Outro: Raekwon, Ghostface Killah]

Yo, man, you know what I'm saying?

Fuck it, man (*Tires screeching*, *car crashing*)

(*Car crashing*)