[Produced by J. Period] [Intro] Where them gangster at Where them dimes at (J. Period) [Verse: Nas] This ain't rappin, this is Street-Hop Now get up off your a** like your seat's hot My live n***as lit up the reefer Trunk of the car we got the Streetsweeper Don't start none, won't be none No reason for your mans to panic You don't wanna see no ambulances Knock a pimp's drink down in his pimp cup That's the way you get Timberland'd up Let the music diffuse all the tension Baller convention, free admission Hustlers, dealers and k**ers can move swift Girls get close, you can feel where the tool's kept All my just-comin' homies, parolees Get money, leave the beef alone slowly Get out my face, you people so phoney Pull out my waist, the eagle fo-forty [Hook: Nas] They shootin'! -- Aw made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Gettin' big money, playboy your time's up Where them gangstas? Where them dimes at? [Outro] Bravehearts! (Throw your hands in the sky Queens is in the back) [Verse: Nas] I see n***as runnin', yo my mood is real rude I lay you out, show you what steel do Mobsters don't box, my pump shot obliges Every invitation to fight you punk a**es Like Pun said, "You ain't even en mi clasa" Maybach Benz, back seat, tv plasma Ladies lookin for athletes or rappers Whatever you choose, whatever you do Make sure he a thug and intelligent too Like a real thoroughbred is, show me love Lemme feel how the head is Females whose the s**iest is always the nastiest And I like a little sa**iness, a lotta cla** Mommy reach in your bag, pa** the fifth I'm a leader at last, this a don you wit' My nines'll spit, n***as lose con...