[Intro: Ghostface Killah]   Yeah, testing one-two, one-two   Testing, one-two, yeah, one-two      [Ghostface Killah]   I've lived the life of Sonny Carson   Favorite slacks was the baby blue knitted sharkskins   Custom made like the ace of spade   Switching robes when I leave the forum   In the sleeve is a classic date   Russian cut, mustard handle, bout the same size   Of little tight Shawn with his Nikes on, still blamp you   Vamp you, throwing homo's out they sandals   Leave your brain all chunky like I'm advertising soup from Campbell's   Bowl legged old man give me props, all I do is buy 'em a bottle   Hit 'em off, like "peace, pops!", Fishscale got the streets hot   All you gotta do is go on the road, with Dipset, Rae & D-Block   And that's how we take New York back (yeah)   Flex and the Pitbulls, Heavy Hitters, Kay Slay, Absolut   Camillo, Lantern, load the wax up, cock and shoot   Cypha Sounds, DJ Clue, Envy, next, Staten be the scoop      [Chorus: Ghostface Killah]   We them brick, flippin' niggas with Cash Rule, relax duke   Doctor bills, funerals, that's what cash do   Come around here, fronting, we'll splash you   Staten Island murder goons, cousin, we'll scratch you      [Ghostface Killah]   Yo, heard some of ya'll singing like Lou Rawls   Try to fuck me, you gon' suffer from blue balls   Tone's a karate champ, shottie champ   You period niggas be spotting with bad cramps   Intestines looking like chitlings   All we need is hot sauce, my pork eaters, go and get rid of 'em   Kites and death threats, ya'll keep sending 'em   For every dart you throw, my last one's killing 'em   Like cancer patients, in the process, losing they hair   You'll be fighting for life, scratching and gagging   Panicking, gasping for air, suffocating from no-wind syndrome   Like somebody cut the neck of a deer   It's algebra in the third, Alfa Alfa with the gun to the rascal   Jessica Alba is one of my birds   Plus AlcaSeltzer's blowing up bursts   Out to melt you brain cells like Alien herb      [Chorus]      [Ghostface Killah]   Get lost in my hood, it's like you lost in El Mira   You might get poked up, smoked up, throat cut   Rocking them little fly chains, get yoked up   Ya'll Boar's Head niggas, ya'll just cold cuts   Victims of night time street horror, going home with casualties   The twelve gauge blew a path in your knee   That's what happens in war, when the high heaters don't eat   We creep, our stomach growls loud, so we don't sleep, tote heat   Won't speak, (we them), we them grill niggas, we smoke beef      [Chorus]