[Intro: scratched up samples]   "You out there, on now"   "Sorry... that's word, I'm not the herb"   "Understand what I'm saying, saying, saying"   "It's the hardcore"   "Set it off, rusty, low down"   "Following me, it be the God"   "Whatever, whatever"   "God all"   "All New York, ight"      [Ghostface Killah]   Yo, aiyo, the Wally man's coming, you can hear his chain dangle   Brolic arm, check out the ankle   Best cuts, diamond sittin' sideways, like they sit in the cup   You can pour Goose on it, juice on it, two Jamaican sluts   On the streets, cousin, word life, them big boy Toys'R'Us   Got them S5 fifties Maybach's, push suede back   Four hundred g's, on the concrete, save that   Like James Brown, it's the Big Payback   Same place you front's where you get laid at   Strong arm a nigga for real, we eat ya food   Like dog, muthafucka, in replace of a meal   Give you a two hour car chase, flying through lakes and bushes   Holding the wheel, still burning the swishes   Exotic killas who bribe to kill us, and we pay for a tab   Don't matter what size the bill is   We don't need your support, wack speech your thought   Just to rhyme my shit when the tape cut off   The price of fame, a dope chain, the same chain   Yo, he tapped to the roof, watch the block, watch 'em hang      [Chorus: Ghostface Killah]   From Broad Street down to Milledge   You fucking with experienced killas   Mean wolves, silver back gorillas   Them Theodore kids' gorillas   You fucking with experienced killas   Silver back gorillas      [Ghostface Killah]   The grenade gonna hit like a bomb from Flex   The street is never at peace when I palm a tech   My enemies is sub, dude, I'm a black belt   The moves I do, is how Bruce stick Kareem Abdul   Same dudes give a bitch booze, stupid rich dudes   Crystal, chandellier ice, keep a wrist full   'cause, if Lil' Jon, can ice his cup   I top that shit, and ice my nuts   See I'm a threat when it comes to rocks   At 3 A.M., you like damn, who put the sun on the block   Is he crazy? Illuminate like the Son of God   And still pull up in the hoopted out rented car   With dust and weed on him, knock the neighborhood bully out   Take his gun and pee on him   The magazines cant develop my flicks   The negatives came, and printed out them c-note chips   Keep the heat flaming, beats banging, bottle of weed stanking   Competition, yo, I'm giving out strict spankings   Burn 'em like bacon, some want Satan   In the hell fire, screaming, yo I'm sorry for faking, baking      [Chorus]