The cream too long, my team too strong
Bleek is too hot, Beans is gone
Ya'll nikkas in the crosshair, the beams is on (see ya'll)
Ya'll whole block deserted, ya'll fiends are gone (bye bye!)
The whole Roc is jumpin', we reached our ze-nith
Got fiends throwin' up on themself like Wil-ly Beam-an [giggle]
Any given Sunday gunplay's optional
However nikkas want it like Soul II Soul (however do you waaaaant it)
Whoever got hops get blocked go to the hole
Dikembe Mutumbo of this rap shyt
Plus the jab is sick, and it's that quick
Left hand'll lean 'em like a little past six
Now run along wit'cha little ass hits
Read my rap sheet nikka, THREE CLASSICS
Shut ya bumba' got A-Rod numbers
All you muddaskunks get buried in the trunk
When I blast the pump, I leave you relaxed
In the hospital lookin' at M*A*S*H for months
Then I dumps dough on the D.A. desk
And the fleece got free and pee-pee on the steps...
We've got no re-spect
No law or governin' why you fukkin' wit' him?
Matta'fact, why you fukkin' wit' them?
All ya'll need is the R-O-C baby
and 
