[Verse 1: Styles P] I'm off one, but I'm on one also Tryin' to win the game; stop the clock, let the ball roll Who wanna get, popped in they torso? And whipped in they face 'til they eye and they jaw broke? No love for the other side; tricks like Biggie said Ain't a Blood, but I'm paintin' the whole city red Get rich or die tryin', like Fifty said Load it up, pop, take that, like Diddy said Hit you while you drinkin' Patron, to make the liquor red Told you when up I'm in the zone, it ain't a sicker head Couple homies used to be real, but then the bread got 'em I give all of these rappers red bottoms Who want the ones with the spikes, too? Not in your shoes; in your face, if I don't like you k** the top ten on the list, cause I'm the type to Then the next ten on the list, if they nice, too I clap, I clap, I clap, for them racks on racks on racks And whoever's on the top; when you come down, bring your strap Cause you know I run the bottom, where we let them sh**'s go black And when D-Block hit you up, you ain't f**in' headed back Yeah, it's Ghost town; most time, n***a, more or less American muscle, like the Corvettes African hustle, like the greatest in the door steps You might of won some battles, cause we ain't been to war yet..