| Brooklyn, yo | 
| Eyo, it’s the Ill Na Na baby! | 
| Brooklyn, let’s get it in | 
| I’ve been a star since a virgin in highschool | 
| Since the age of fourteen I’ve been a rap bitch version of Mike ??? | 
| And I don’t know how to trust, the church or the rifle | 
| God or the devil, the burner or the Bible | 
| Got a black cloud on me, I’ve been cursed by my right ones | 
| I’m back bitches! | 
| The retun of ya Idol | 
| Black hand keep them Lambos and them black Impalas | 
| I wreck the style homie, ain’t a bitch chilla | 
| I fucks with gangstas baby, like prince Miller | 
| And when they locked Tuquan, I felt the East split up | 
| He and his Feds, but he left his legacy in killa | 
| I keep my killaz on that Brooklyn shit | 
| Fox ripped the world like the Brooklyn Bridge | 
| I’m back now, Brooklyn ain’t never looked this big | 
| I hold it down while y’all lookin' for Big | 
| Next blakka Miss | 
| I’m in my own fuckin' world, I speak how I feel | 
| Sometimes I feel like I’m just too fuckin' real | 
| Foxy Brown uh, what the deal is? | 
| They ain' got a clue what we about to do | 
| FB! | 
| You know what it is | 
| AZ of course | 
| What up boogz? | 
| You know I would if I could | 
| Bring the hood on the V.I., my man from C. I | 
| Said his ball was in the mess hall witchu at jail time | 
| Lookin' like you was right at your crib in Alpine | 
| No signs of a warrior’s face | 
| I know you sprayed if your peer wasn’t so soft while he helped you escape | 
| But on the real, we never got a chance to build | 
| With all the bullshit somebody shoulda told you to kill | 
| To the steel, so many rappers lost they mind | 
| Like twentyfive to life never forced they mind | 
| Your moms cryin', we spoke, I almost choked | 
| Was there the same day to brought yo ass up in the post | 
| It’s getting close, see you soon, sometime in June | 
| Utilize the red goons for yo mind to bloom | 
| A flesh wound always heal, but death that’s it | 
| I’ma go now, but let that sit |