Lyrics

[Verse 1: Cam'ron] Yo, y'all niggas with the muscle, y'all get clapped in the tussle I'm a hustler, not a rapper, it's just that rap is my hustle Show a Digga know, yo We the first teen millionaires in Harlem since Rich and Po You don't know? Get to know Ain't takin' shit to blow, Jenny Jones, 'Rock N' Jock' Right back to the block to clock, it ain't hop and scotch It's Pop and scotch, in a bar, they go shot for shot Matter of fact, outside the bar, they go shot for shot Me and my co-D on a O-Z, we go rock for rock Me and my co-D on a Rollie, we go rock for rock You souped up, think I'm easy to touch? Then you been watchin' a little bit of TV too much Lots of rhymes, sure you see my ass lots of times On the corner still, like I ain't got a dime Autographs, not the kind to be signing the crap "Take a CD," slash "Here's a dime of this crack" [Hook] Nigga double up, keep all guns double clutch Shoot at yo' feet, make you jump like double dutch New York, baby, for you matchbox niggas Chicken wing, french fry, snack box niggas [Verse 2: Cam'ron] I know looking at my jewelry is scarring yo' brain Not to mention, Jada Pinkett over parking the Range (Yo, that's Will Smith girl) Naw, she's part of my chain Pardon my game, car gettin' washed in the rain Runnin' yo' trap, that'll get you one in yo' back The hood that I have, had to take the good with the bad Like Joe on the run, plus his fuckin P.O., it's done Low on his funds, better get the coke or the guns Word to the wise, Killa Cam, I heard of them guys Diplomat, Chris Black, yo, convertible fives Rims on the wheel, to drive down shows in the South Rap ain't that great neither, I got coke to give out Coke to give out, motherfuckin' smoke to give out Hoes to give out, naw, we ain't over this route Back on the street, Jimmy get the crack on the street Tour over, motherfucker, let's get back on our feet [Hook] Nigga double up, keep all guns double clutch Shoot at yo' feet, make you jump like double dutch New York, baby, for you matchbox niggas Chicken wing, french fry, snack box niggas [Verse 3: Juelz Santana] I fucked up, let the streets got a hold of me Now they got me trapped in, and they holdin' me I'm stressed out, why else would I smoke the weed? Every day, papi tell me he got coke for cheap Broke as shit, thats why I hold the fifth Send niggas to snatch your chain and choke your bitch Rope your nigga, leave 'em with an open liver I'm the reason why it's gonna get cold this winter I done seen niggas standin' on these blocks for days Pump work out of buildings, dimes and treys Fuck A&R's that want me to dance and pose I rather stand on poles with grams and O's White shirt, construction Timbs, a pair Girbauds And white powder stuff, that'll clear ya nose, faggot [Hook] Nigga double up, keep all guns double clutch Shoot at yo' feet, make you jump like double dutch New York, baby, for you matchbox niggas Chicken wing, french fry, snack box niggas