Intro: Styles      Dj Clue. Desert Storm style baby. What nigga      All:       L-O-X, chest to chest, back to back   glock for glock, Mac for Mac   Dope and crack is what we sling do things you talk about   player fuck around and catch a slug in your mouth      Verse One: Jadakiss      It's a shame he can rhyme, nigga loves crime   every late night he's outside with the nine   You ain't got chips, fuck the world   you got chips, you can fuck the next mans girl   Sounds harsh but they been ripped apart my world   Where thugs could rule   and selling crack was cool   Knocked off hundred packs brought stacks to school   No diploma, weed aroma nigga half coma   know the tricks of the class see my ass on the corner   You ain't ate shit 'til y'all tasted life   had my moms screaming "Jay don't waste your life"   But me and my Ace is tight   moving base at night   Lace your nights, you see Narcs jet   I'll meet in the morning in the park doing sets   And when it's dark again   we'll let the 9s spark again    Y'all know the dogs   niggaz stay moving out the fog   And when it's war we ain't gonna call on the Lord   I'll hit 'em like the board when I split 'em with my sword   You fear what you hear so nigga press record   from here on out we ain't tryin' to be ignored   L.O.X. drop shit that make niggaz mop shit   you wanna pop shit, nigga, pop clips      Verse Two: Styles Paniro      Too many niggaz shake me, life is shaky   I act like this 'cause they make me probably hate me   Nigga, I'm in the dictionary look me up   express art from my heart, baby cook me up   I'm the crack in your tape deck   I'm the burner on your waist that'll leave the place wet   I'm the money in the safe that'll pay the case debt   I'm the jewels on your neck that'll make these dime bitches give head   I'm the blunt 3 in the morning you take to the head   I'm that car that you snatched when you first got bread   I'm that spot that you got when you were running from the Feds   I'm the heart of the page in that book that you read   I'm the ground that absorbed all that shit that y'all bled   Styles, physically and mentally   going to for the goal 'cause I paid the penalty   Y'all ain't a friend of me   y'all ain't seen the enemy   Thinking of bending me   but I'm on the Kennedy   When I fly back in, hope you're packing   coming to tear y'all niggaz in fractions   Four-four   seen the future we battlin' all laws      Verse Three: Sheek Luchion      Y'all must really wanna die, fucking with Sheek Luchi   this here is the roof we dropping niggaz off Bonsai   Goodbye, see you in your afterlife when   you come back as a pussy and I fuck you again   Respect come not from Tecs, it comes from niggaz who write checks   to get y'all lil' niggaz outta big debts   With paper, I'm sure that you never see me sweat   Only in the linen when I'm spinning in my whip-up   pass niggaz and watch they face frown like a pitbull   The shit that we crush niggaz sniff into their groove   scared to move   Gleaming like you looking for change   But ain't no dollars down there it's that sack fucking with you   now bounce before we bust you where the good Lord split you   Hustle to work, you kidding me, you know the difference in the cash income   for years so many niggaz must've been dumb   Where we from, niggaz been hustlin' drums   making sneaker money, running for crumbs, pulling in sums   If time don't stop, why should we yo light your spliff   you need work? Come on I got consignment to give   This year I need 97 gats, 97 cars   swear to God this year, I'm gonna fuck 97 starts   And if I come short, it ain't no slack off my shoulder   I'm waiting for this last bitch to get a little older WHAT   L.O.X. nigga, DJ Clue, to the muthafuckin' chest