Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?
Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?
We gonna do it like this
Anytime you're ready, check it
I got seven MAC-11's, about eight .38's
Nine 9's, ten MAC-10's, the shits never ends
You can't touch my riches
Even if you had MC Hammer and them 357 bitches
Biggie Smalls, the millionaire, the mansion, the yacht
The two weed spots, the two hot Glocks
That's how I got the weed spot
I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb spread
Little Gotti got the shotty to your body
So don't resist, or you might miss Christmas
I tote guns, I make number runs
I give MC's the runs drippin' when I throw my clip in
The AK, I slay from far away
Everybody hit the D-E-C-K
My slow flow's remarkable, peace to Mateo
Now we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniffed the yayo
That's crazy blunts, mad L's
My voice excels from the avenue to jail cells
Oh my God, I'm dropping shit, like a pigeon
I hope you're listenin', smacking babies at they christenin'
Motherfuckin' Biggie Smalls
What you gonna do with it, 2Pac?
Yeah, where the motherfuckin' thugs at?
Throw your motherfuckin' middle finger
We gonna do this shit like this
I thank the Lord for my many blessings
Though I'm stressin', keep a vest for protection
From the barrel of a Smith & Wesson
And all my niggas in the pen', here we go again
Ain't nothin' separating us from a MAC-10
Born in the ghetto as a hustler
Hold up, a straight soldier, buckin' at the busters
No matter how you try, niggas never die
We just retaliate with hate, then we multiply
You see me striking down the block, hittin' corners
Mobbin' like a motherfucker, livin' like I wanna
And ain't no stopping at the red lights
I'm sideways, Thug Life, motherfucker, crime pays
Let the cops put they lights on; chase me, nigga!
Zig-zaggin' through the freeway; race me, nigga!
In a high-speed chase with the law
The realest motherfucker that you ever saw