[Verse One: Ghostface Killah] Yo, yo Take out the rap kingpin, the black Jesus I know a few niggaz sniff coke, it cause seizures Peace to half-moon Caesars and all the bitches in the bleachers Hot weather, sex on the beaches Jury shopping out of the country, deluxe luxury, people saying dem not change, look, truckle me But what about the Wonder Woman bracelet Two-oh point three diamond cut engraved rubies, kid I laced it My sweet tooth gotta nigga throbbin, ready for robbin But first hit Maria's, for a butter almond The bionic microphone is stacked mechanic Move like a bunch of Mexicans with bandanas Son, it's on so we can just Maximillion I got the spot sewn, so we can make a billion The God's tropical, ladies call me black fruit punch Rainbow, flavored niggas murder niggas for lunch Peace to the Paris crew in the avenue and my nigga Jay Love Who carries switch blades on the red roof
[Verse Two: Cappadonna] Yo, the first branch, the third leaf, whoever want it got beef I politic, show love, crush those who dare creep Into my realm of sunshine I praise divine Fine line between dawn of dumb, deaf and blind He ain't mine, he shook like the faggots on daytime Crossed over grain while we was bubblin moonshine Sippin on the Moet, laid up, Rae-Gambino Mastermind the plan, Tony Starks, Cappachino Develop while your head be swellin up all for the nation Blinded by the ice while I release the confrontation Donna holy fat bads of weed, ravioli Pasta, Bodyguard the Killa Bee songs like Kevin Costner Infrared all inside your bumba rasta Cappadonna pimped the derby like the mobster
[Interlude: Ghostface] Yeah, yeah Eight spaghetti lame brain ass niggaz Quarters, nickels, and dimes bitch Except for overtime nigga Any ass money should be fine Cause I'm coming strong, reaking niggas backs Keepin shit real If you haven't noticed this crazy ass rusty, ass nigga Let me tell you this four times Tony Starks, Raekwon the chef Cappachino and Golden Arms Is comin through mad strong From the isles of Shaolin For all them faggot ass Rusty ticket-head bitches too Shump shump baby
[Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef] Yo back in the days, bagging crack, scrapin plates Flippin cakes to them heavy head niggaz hating Jakes It be us, all the war's soldiers, hanging in halls getting over City niggaz who for blood money rocking Rovers Stay dipped, don't have no money in your pocket In the streets while these people mark money in their Jeep Crack bums watch your back for jumps Caught before a fake twenty dollar bill, get em son, we ain't the one Politickin, purse vickin, sick of these Dominicans Eating good, had to shoot my way up out of Bennigans That's life, to top it all off, beef for White Pulling bleach out trying to throw it in my eyesight Yo what the fuck was on yo mind?