[Juelz Santana]

Oh, come on, fuck with your boy

It's Santana, Heatmakers, where we at?

Let me see you through this

Killa, Jones, Freakay

Yeah man, I'm back at it



Today's a new day, got the boo-lay up in the suitcase

Go uptown to Harlem, tell 'em that I sent ya

Tell 'em it's August, I'm "Gon' Til' November"

I need a couple birds, get a broad, have 'em sent up

Call my bird, get my broad have her sent up (Please)

Call my niggaz, call my squad, have 'em sent up (Please)

I see a town I'm likin'

See some niggas getting money in a town I like it

I run up on them with the pound and light it

Like it's my block now, all right kid?

He understood me quite clear

Then that thing banged out, ranged out the side of his right ear

And I got back to my business, back to my bitches

Back to the kitchen, that pyrex vision

Pop, I let that white stuff sit in

Get hard, get rock, get to the block and pitchin'

Yeah I'm sorry but this is how I'm livin

And this is how I'm getting, fuck how I get it

Hey!



[Chorus: Juelz Santana]

I stood alone watching the wall, in the zone, hand on my handles

Listening to gangsta music

I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone, flippin' the channels

Watching how the gangstas do it

I stood alone, getting dome, from a thick chick in sandles

Watching Shaft, clocking math



[Juelz Santana]

Now I see death around the corner

Gotta stay high, will I survive in the city where the skinny niggas die?

Nope, it's the city where the skinny niggas ride

.45 semi on the side, twisting when they drive, yeah

Lick a shot for Big Pop and 'Pac, yeah

One more for Shyne locked inside, yeah

Two more for Cam, for taking o