[Intro: Young Chris]. Yeah... Young Chris M-eez my nigga Free-Wheez. The boy Twista. Holla. My life on the track (Okay). Up and comin'. State Prop Chain gang (That's right). Get low (Get low). It's the Roc in the building nigga. (Holla...Yeah). It's the motherfuckin' Roc bitch who hotter than us?. (Okay okay). [Young Chris]. Ayo..ever since a young buck I been on the come up. Known to dish the raw dish the law if they come up. And cheddar 'till the sun up... If there's a ransom and the law get involved then we never get it summed up. Never put ya gun up if ya come round me. I go to war wit' niggaz 'round the corner from 'round me. You could front 'round me but I read through that. Wit' the mili' and I ain't talkin' 'bout no Segal mac. Niggaz see shoot back we can see to that. Hit yo front letters see through back bring yo peoples back. And I used to grind out on my friend's spot. 'til he's mom wanted my Tim-bots. Now my paint got me discounts. Or trans-quo all around the world like I was signed to Pimp-dot. And if it's ten targets and I got ten shots. I'm tryin' to leave at least nine out of them ten shot... [Memphis Bleek]. I got my mind on my money money on mind. But some say its a gift I don't write but I rhyme. I complete songs with just one try. Tell 'em it's no lie I beef all my life...dogg. I never think it's already there. I find ways to say it so you motherfuckers hear it. And when you hear it you feel it you know its real so. This is how I live it how it's pictured for real...nigga. I'm shittin' for real. Diamonds against wood underground king for real. Big crib when I lay yeah I'm livin' for real. Trust me the guns come off the shelf whenever shit'll get real. Automatics and extended clips that's what I'm hittin' wit'. Dummies in the black rhinoes. Yeah they be killin' shit. Masked up kidnap shit that's how my niggaz get. Chi-town NYC that's how my niggaz get... [Freeway]. Yes just picture me rollin'. The smith and wesson'll stay goin' put a hole in yo chest. It's just another hustle paper gettin' made and fold. Get mad you street niggaz finally made it. I swoop five he know the ride heavily loaded. Deliver pies like cake they go straight through yo payment...yup!. Chump...you don't really wanna war. With the State Prop clique if ya clique shot us squad up. S-P game so damn tough the 4 4 in the 5th tucked ya'll can't hang. Transporter turned rapper get a camcorder film my life. Still acclompished tryin' to fill they cups. The rap version of Mandela call my bluff. We still the street dwellers feel my pain (my pain). I spit a verse and split a clip in the rain. A fool-proof when the full force open you up (what!). [Twista]. Twista will rock you you don't want the thug apostle to pop you. Hostile when I drop you turnin' everything colossal to fossiles. I speak street gospel all they life I spit words and paint portraits. For real niggaz that hold down they fortress and serve off of porches. Hit 'em in the body wit' the powerful forces that'll end all your doubt. Make you clean up your house bag up an ounce hit the dance floor and bounce. We blessed wit' the talent fuck wit this clique it ain't gon' be easy. 'Cause you fuckin' wit' Twist if you fuck wit Chris Bleek and Free-wheezy. So speak and breath easy... Or the scutches my future in 3D. I like wars I'm from a city full of Vice Lords and GD's. Breeds and Souls 2-6's Kings BD's and Stones. Spanish cobras and all the true soldiers survive and I'm gone!. Watch me spit if for the killers and hustler's flippin' all the pounds and bricks. Hate on me I'ma bust at you hoes and I put eleven down wit' a clip. Niggaz servin' fiftys and hundreds when I see you and I'm on yo tip. Twista and this East-Coast regime it's that chi-roc shit