Talk to me man   This ya boy Young Hova, yo turn the muh'fuckin noise up   We'll get right into the proceedings this evening   Headphones are distortin', bring it down a lil' bit   Okay, now we workin' wit' it   The boy Face on the baseline, Face Mob   Welcome to New York City, it's ya boy Young Hov' chea   Kanye West on the track, Chi-Town, what's goin' on now?   Can I talk to y'all for a minute? Lemme talk to y'all for a minute   Just gimme a minute of ya time baby, I don't want much   Lemme talk to these muh'fuckas, lemme talk to these muh'fuckas   Lemme talk, lemme talk, lemme talk to these muh'fuckas      Guess who's bizack? You still smellin' crack in my clothes   Don't make me have to relapse on these hoes   Take it back down to taxin' them roads   When I was huggin' it, niggaz couldn't do nuttin' wit' it   Straight from the oven wit' it, came from the dirt   I emerged from it all without a stain on my shirt   You can blame my old earth, for the shit she instilled in me   Still with me      Pain plus work shit she made me milk this game for all it's worth   That's right, these niggaz can't fuck with me   I'm callin' guts every time, drag my nuts every time   Homey, we make a great combination don't we?   Me and the Face Mob, every time we face-off   Face it y'all, y'all niggaz playin' basic ball   I'm on the block like I'm eight feet tall   Homey, I'm in the drop with the AC on   That's why the, streets embrace me dawg, I'm so cool      Guess who's bizack?   Back on the block with the old Face Mob   Mack Mittens and Hov'   Don't make me relapse   Back to the block with the fo'   'Cause this street shit is all I know      From the womb to the tomb a hot pot of joy and a spoon   Tryna make me forty thousand and move   Motels, star-studded, rock stars and goons   Plain clothes wanna run in my room   And guess who's, guess who's bizack? It's ya boy Face Mob   Started with an eight ball, gotta get this cake dawg   Give niggaz a break, nah, you know how the game go   Fuck you think I slang fo', to go against the grain      I'm out, I'm out here to grind mo', rapped up in the paper chase   I wanna fuck a fine hoe and candy paint the 88   Don't got no wholesale, 'cause that ain't how I wanna run it   Here take these five stones and bring a nigga back a hundred   Gotta see my feet dude, you do shit a fiend do   The fire get too hot in the kitchen, I hit the streets fool   Money is an issue and that's on the fa' shizzle my nizzle   Ya block warm, then I come by with the fizzle      And make fa' sho' I get to work mines, for part of the time   We go to war and you ain't makin' a dime   'Cause I got, shit to lose a nigga out here payin' his dues   My baby walkin' gotta get him some shoes   It's a new game doin', lemme give ya the rules   Get outta line and I'm a give ya the blues   It's a new game doin', lemme give ya the rules   Get outta line and I'm a give ya the blues      Guess who's bizack?   The boy B Mizack, A.K.A, Mr. Crack-A-Brick   Turn a whole one from a half a brick, look I mastered this   You can smell it once the plastic rips   A hot plate will make ya swell up if ya gasket clicked   You can make ya chips swell up, ya don't hafta pitch   Play them corners like a safety, watch the traffic switch      Young'n never pump fake, and you'll get past the blitz   And keep ya whole hood on flip like on box-spring   Pissy Mack and shit, low old box of things   Strictly glassy shit I hug the block like a quart of water   Shit I used to hug a corner like a old deuce and a quarter   Till like deuce in the mornin', with the old heads   Slangin' loose quarters, this Philly cat back gatted   Still fuckin' with them crack addicts   Still bustin' with that black-matic      Guess who's bizack?   Back on the block with the old Face Mob   Mack Mittens and Hov'   Don't make me relapse   Back to the block with the fo'   'Cause this street shit is all I know