| In the year 2000... | |
| (M-O-P) still bangin | |
| (Firing Squad!) | |
| (The last generation...) | |
| Hey, hey, hey, hey | |
| All right let me brake it down one for time for you | |
| You motherfuckers | |
| Yo Primo hold me down son, cuz we ain't playin no motherfuckin games | |
| [Lil' Fame] | |
| Fuck the East Coast, this is N.Y., N.Y. | |
| N-I-N-E, make niggas M-I-A | |
| And I spray a, it's Fizzy Womack truck | |
| Bitch don't get in my way | |
| Fuck the jail faces, I leave your body for the homicide to trace | |
| Fight along with the shell aces | |
| Holler if you hear me | |
| I turn your head into a skeleton skull | |
| And leave it hollow if you hear me | |
| I keep it funky, understand me son | |
| I rock my Timb's untied, I don't plan to run | |
| Niggas see Lil' Fame creep thru the back street | |
| With my aluminum ass whoopa in the back-seat | |
| What the fuck is this? Your Van Damme flick, that's cute | |
| But I'm hear to fuck up your day do | |
| Yes (yes) yes (yes) yo | |
| I step to em backwards, about face and start clappin | |
| [Chorus: M.O.P. & Teflon] | |
| International, bell ringer, ruckus bringer | |
| Downtown swinga, exercising my index finger | |
| We here with the whole squad, First Family empire | |
| Fizzy Womack (clack-clack) reportin for Roll Call | |
| International, bell ringer, ruckus bringer | |
| Downtown swinga, SS Thousand, my index finger | |
| We here with the whole squad, First Family empire | |
| Bert Dog (Bucka-Blaow) reportin for Roll Call | |
| [Billy Danze] | |
| Yo, what if I leave you where you stand? | |
| B-I-Double L-Y-D-A-N-Z-E (Danze) | |
| Back with a vengeance, listen Mr. Simmer | |
| Before I throw copper tops through the back of your skimmer | |
| Y'all niggas remember, 1-9-9-3 (M-O-P) what it's goin be | |
| Just make it loud and clear | |
| Come here nigga, I can't hear nigga | |
| I'm deaf in one ear nigga (yeah nigga) | |
| You cowards are pathetic, if you wonderin if I'm sympathetic | |
| Don't bet it, you should give me a little credit | |
| I grew up where it's equivalent to none (none) | |
| Wit blood in my palm (palm), I walk wit my arms (arms) | |
| Hollerin marksmen (uh-huh), in the dark and the punks sparkin & barkin | |
| At ease soldier, it's the untouchable type, that you like | |
| We burn pipes, it's over | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [Lil' Fame] | |
| I rip ya body on a Nagamichi system | |
| Nigga feel me, I want my goons | |
| Straight bumpin the tunes of Makaveli | |
| Headed to Queens kid, bumpin some mean shit | |
| Bumps thumps on the side of me, smokin some green shit | |
| (First Faaaaaaam) Feel the premonition son | |
| We heavy metal, what's your love? (Ghetto prisoners) | |
| Racka (bung-bung) Racka (bung-bung) rrrrrrrrrrrrracka, motherfucker | |
| [Billy Danze] | |
| Aiyo we live by the code of the streets | |
| Move wit our peeps | |
| Since it's hard to eat, we hardly sleep | |
| I put my life on the line every step of the way | |
| It's for a good cause (for you and yours) of course | |
| Okay, now that we establish that | |
| Nigga where the fuck that money at | |
| I know you got it, and I want it Jack | |
| Just give me half of that | |
| Take the other half and get yourself another pack | |
| And I'll be back for that |
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