Yo, this the one right here Tone....yeah this that shit right

here....Herb McGruff....the crime Dog, Harlem World, N.F.L......



Verse 1:

Ya'll know who holdin', get money while you dozin'

jewels frozen, hit skins with two trojans

Harlems on the rise, the new slogan

all of these guys get blew open

whole crew totin'

to Hell with that braggin' and boastin'

I'm'a put my mag in motion, leave all you fags floatin'

wrapped up, don't get yourself capped up

try and act up, watch the Four-our make you back up

Dums Dums, you know where the clique come from

flip bricks, goin' in on sticks for Lumpsomes

Harlem World baby, up in ya girl crazy

in a tinted out V-12 pearl Mercedes

Six pusher, mackin' all these Hookers who took us

thats my stick man, he don't say shit, keep the cooker

beat and whoop ya, knock yo ass out cold

pass ya gold, Teflons harass ya soul

and death become you

clap you, take everything from you

fuck a rumble, watch you stumble in the jungle

Hell here, hear me? nothin' like Bel-Air

niggas sell here, mad bitches on Welfare

fuck the Mayor, I'm tryin' to make a Million bucks a year

they wanna see me try, watch this villian duck the chair

Kingpinnin', doin' my thing, grinnin'

stayed in the bing in prison

ripped this cat for a ring that glistened

pullin' off them stings like a tradition

stay schemin' like Latin Kings up in the system

move with wisdom, catch 'em with these duded thats gonna twist 'em

Uz' lift 'em, every nigga he knew gon' miss 'em

Gruffy, man you either hate me or you love me

nothin' in between that, I mean that

for Greenbacks, rob niggas, sell fiends crack

lay 'em down flat, where my Man's T