['Gangs of New York' sample]

Anytime that I wish

I could turn it against you

[Fastlife Fox]

Let me take you to my location, where they treat me like Naseem

Coming to America, it's Akim

Fastlife Fox, can't see him even if I had Visine

I stretch a nigga out like widescreen

Me, Myself & Irene, a bullet pistol right out of my jeans

Drive-by, cut off the high beams

Fly by, gun off your fly team

And hit 'em from the Bottom Up, bang bang, shout out to Shyheim

I ain't nothing like the rest of these dudes

I make a call and have seventy goons

One down on 'em, like a robbery, don't mess with me, fool

Who wanna dance, I'mma step on your shoes, you wanna dance?

I do the Gregory Hines and tap on your spine

Push your front to the back of your mind

Cook you up like crack on the grind, so look me up

You can find me in the Yellow Pages, under Staten, it's time

[Shyheim]

I'm straight out of Staten Island, 10304 Richmond County

I smoke that good soury, I be baked like brownies

High like howdy, or a Allen Ive' alley

You be fucking with that brown weed while my Al's Green

I'm a Killa Bee who killed a Bee, I took Rae's sting

I got my own website, I don't need no ning

Niggas in jail with no internet still got my link

And the Bottom be popping bottles, we don't cop no drinks

[Castro]

Aiyo, you can get popped through your Sox hat, you melt like hot wax

You can't say shit when I cock back

Here we go faggots, felt was radioactive

Every hi-tech vehicle, stereo hazard

I bag bad dimes, I go scary ol' fat chicks

One shot through the chest, aerial back flip

Word to the fid-eye, my gun bang like a trid-op

Back baby nid-eye, and swing Glocks baptid-ize

Low's gold BS, so stone cold and fresh

If I blew in the air, I'd make the o-zone connect

Old road to death, my soul won't go to rest

Until I kill all my enemies, and smoke all they flesh

[Nizzle]

Growing up in the Staten, ya'll think shit don't happen?

Thirty years old, tossing them hats, man

Drug money, easy, niggas doing it backwords

Well fronting on my strip, I'll get them smoked like Backwoods

From the 2-4, to the number one kitchen

I'm the man in the porch, still I hold a Mr. Smithen

Westing, homeboy, best to get to stepping

Cuz I don't give a fuck about you, or what camp you repping

Chain gang's not to be fucked with, trust this

Cuz niggas like me, I'm all in, they bluffing

Niggas could catch me, posted on the Ave

Pushing the new Jag, blowing on purple grass

P.O.R.T. Richmond

Home of the greatest, still home of some snitches

I don't give a fuck, I got the chrome for them bitches

One shot deal, blow them bones out them chickens

It's Nizzle