作词 : Dennis Coles/Walbert Dale
 作曲 : Danny Caiazzo
Intro: Ghostface Killah
Yo, yeah
Verse 1: Ghostface Killah
You can get clapped in the deadly hall
Where the killers skate off in the clean G Wagen, all gray
Chain swingin', the god-gods was tried for 'meanors
Gucci, last thing they seen hittin' the cement
The fxxk y'all standing around for
Watch my reels, I make scripts off strips like, "Hold on, strip"
I don't care what he say, how many guns he got
Just ask your mans about my flicks
Movies, gruesome, bombs, we boofed it
Rikers Island, that phone got bodies on it, true sh1t
A click, two sticks, it'll cost you, baby
That's two pin joints if I lost you, baby
Yeah, I'm back, we can go bar for bar
Tie hands together with the aux, go scar for scar
Go 'head and act up, injuries gon' add up
Walkin' out the ER like a mummy, all wrapped up
Come on board, shooters, we hirin'
Scarface bald head n1ggas, we admire them
Rumor has it a lot of frauds got flaws on 'em
See a lot of Madea in n1ggas, wrong drawers on 'em

Chorus: Solomon Childs
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked (Right)
Many legs I broke (Right), many necks I choked (Right)
Many legs I broke (Right), many necks I choked (Right)
And if provoked, I let the pistol smoke (Brr)
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked
And if provoked, I let the pistol smoke
Verse 2: Ghostface Killah
I held 'em up like a pair of crutches
Had 'em all in a jam like I ran with Smuckers
Cops, sirens, paparazzis over hot bodies
Headshots in the Maserati
Don't wrap that n1gga, no Polo sheets
Keep it discrete, I told that n1gga he'd be dead in a week
His b1tch told me where he rest, where he keep his cheese
He got a stashbox in the wheel in both his V's
I got forty-seven ******* connects out in Monaco
Top of the line, these coke chefs made the honor roll
And that's the reason I don't fxxk with ******s
Twenty-one guns that go savage
Seventy nuns that tote smoke in the old baggage
Whatever I see, I grab it
You get the message like it's all in a tablet
You straight b1tch like Tiff Haddish
Hustle grands like Tip Harris
The whole hood drop like a miscarriage

Chorus: Solomon Childs
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked (Right)
Many legs I broke (Right), many necks I choked (Right)
Many legs I broke (Right), many necks I choked (Right)
And if provoked, I let the pistol smoke (Brr)
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked
And if provoked, I let the pistol smoke (Brr)