Intro: Styles:

What! Niggaz can't fuck with us

DMX:

Get at me dog. My niggaz

Styles:

That's my word!



Verse One: DMX



I'm the type to kick back and look at shit,

'cause crooked shit gets me amped

And what you don't know, will get you locked in sleep away camp.

Grand champ and raise more hell, than a Sorrel

See you at the peephole, bustin' at the doorbell

Though I wasn't coming without mine

You put me on the front line because you doubt mine

Bet your and lost yours, you come to get your I tossed yours

And it cost yours, fuck y'all niggaz stupid, I'm the boss dog

What more dirt must I do, plus my crew

Busts at you, and you be like "What's that oooh"

What's that Clue, do I bring the noise what

Destroy these mutts, is these niggaz toys or what

Bring all the pretty niggaz thinking they shitty, what a pity

Lemme show them niggaz shitty some pity, but for fifty

A motherfucker will get a bullet to hum to him, put the gun to him

Hit 'em with something that comes to him, bet it runs through him

Look at what I done to him, no more smiles

Got the whole top half of his head, running wild

But you don't hear me though, so I turn out the lights

We can take it to the streets dog, turn off the mics

If you want war, then you want more, than you can stand

And this 44, will leave you with your dick in the sand

Who the man, and now you cats know for real

Get at me dog, (bark), what the deal



Verse Two: Styles



Y'all niggaz fucking with the L.O.X.

Your stuck on a rock

Got that Alcatraz flow

You just don't know

Lifetime kid caged in blazin'

Any type of rapper or federal agent

Paniro the made man, blade man

Stand up type of guy, your living a lie

Niggaz wanna be pretty and fly but kiddies will die

The dogs run the city, bet fifty on mine

Two grams for you to sniff, how silly am I

Got a lot of jokes don't, kill yo ass won't I

Maybe not if the spot is filled up with po 9

Many niggaz get it confused, blame the rules

Only ask the how's not the who's

Better off busting your tool, then we might get the crew

But as far as rap goes, you a motherfucking fool

If you don't want chips, you should have stayed in school

You and 8-ball nigga, you wanna play pool

I'll put you in the side pocket, look at the size of my rocket

Styles don't lie, cop the work then clock it

Boxes full of boots, jeans, suits and watches

Niggaz don't pump if they can't make a profit

Stop it, before we pull it back then cop it

Vacant lot niggaz come through then we lock it

(WHAT, WHAT, WHAT)



Verse Three: Jadakiss



With no glocks I'm in your town with five locks

Take five blocks, come back with five trucks, with knots

It's the L.O.X, three niggaz that listen and watch

And nigga you know, whenever we spit, it's hot

It be that new flow, my niggaz, fly niggaz

Always high niggaz, ready to die niggaz

As far as I'm hearing, y'all doing a lot of comparing

Lemme get the one clearance like a sample

'Kiss is the champ and I know that you don't wanna get stamped

Left somewhere cramp, so when it rains, you get damp

Niggaz is done, since poppy raised his son

When bringing in drums, to bring all g's to bums

Whether you can flow or not ain't the issue

You don't Jay to kiss you, his lyrics pierce the gristle

Take a puff then a swig

Think about how I'm gonna

hold it down for Big, my motherfucking nig

Your money is low, and your flow been late

While I be coming through with new shit with tint plates

The only higher than money, is respect

The only thing hotter than my click, is a tek

So when I hit you with these last bars around your neck

You gonna know never to fuck around with L-O-X nigga

(WHAT, YEAH)



Verse Four: Sheek Luchion



My bank account be doubling

While you niggaz stay in trouble and

L.O.X. stay fly

Three niggaz jig-I

Shit you never seen before, Feds hit the repo law

Kingpin, 10 mil. each of us popular

It's Sheek baby

Chicks hate to see me on the Soul Train

With Don Cornelius

And all they got is alias

To work with

To catch Sheek, y'all niggaz besta work quick

Now that I'm eating right, plus living well

So nowadays when I burp, it's fettucini you smell

Ain't that right poppa-san, used to push a Nissan

With a black master full 850 full suspension

While you collect your pension, I ain't worked in years

My stomach is fat from Puerto Rican food, while yours is scarce

Small black haired, chinky-eyed Puerto Rican mama

Keep them laced in the scadda, half the closet on product

I learn things, just by watching y'all niggaz make the wrong moves

Now I know what not to do, to make more than y'all fools

Y'all think we ignorant, 'cause we don't budge unless we benefit

Cats that take the light that's scarce and see what's at the end of it

P.H. me, because a nigga wisks me up in Jake B.

Your shit be so-so, low pro.

On a bus before the cars show

On some old joystick shit, no mirrors

I can see behind me through the cameras

Flip plates, make the whole block go bananas