| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 3:31 | 
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My niggaz, pull triggers, stack figures, whoa, whoa, whoa
Snitch niggaz, broke niggaz, not my niggaz, no, no, no, In the club we, sippin' Dom P, sittin lovely, oh whoa, whoa Sexy ladies, goin' crazy, 'cause the beat's like whoa, whoa, whoa Fresh out the federal building To Bentley Coupes with the convertible ceilings It's the black widow, call me Miss White I done been through it all, shootouts and fistfights Brooklyn bitch, you go wrong, I get right Back with a classic, now gimme six mics Can't reach me on the phone then send a bitch a kite Man I do's it in heels or a pair of crisp Nikes Stand behind Martin Luther King, but I'm more like Malcolm X Guerillas beatin' on they chest, get it right on Malcolm X Just keep the peace, cause if cowards show me disrespect My niggaz put his soul to rest and I don't wanna see you stressed Champagne at my campaign, Kim for mayor Told you I'm the same bitch from the escalator And I ain't trippin off you rats and investigators Get your envelopes, time to address the haters (Chorus) Me and my team, we tryin to own casinos So we can all cop dreams like Pacino's Come through in the oh-six Benz-itos The feds tryin to shut us down like Nino We keep it goin man, we keep it goin man Won't stop, can't, gotta keep it goin man See I do it for the fans, they'll never understand While they goin off course, me I'm stickin to the plan Feel the movement, it's a whole new crew FUCK Junior M.A.F.I.A., that chapter's through Them faggots done did somethin that they cain't undo Whoever ridin with 'em they can get one too Coulda copped out to a one to three do Still took it to trial, even though I blew Brooklyn style, that's how we do it Ill gangsters and ain't got to prove it (Chorus) Now a party ain't a party 'til the Queen come through You know where I go, man the team come too Pull up in the Phantom or the V-1-2 Lil' Kim's that girl, even got her own shoe In the club with my clique though, glass full of Crist-al In the jail jumpsuit, still a bad bitch though Rose from the ghetto it was hard from the get go Then I showed the hood the world ain't just made for rich folk Get'cha little dance up, BK stand up Straight to the dancefloor, everybody hands up Throw it up, get down, fellas hold your pants up Ladies throw it right back, tell that nigga man up |
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