Intro: Nas Yeah yeah, aiyyo black it’s time (word?) (Word, it’s time nigga?) Yeah, it’s time man (aight nigga, begin) Yeah, straight out the fuckin dungeons of rap Where fake niggaz don’t make it back I don’t know how to start this shit, yo, now Verse One: Nas Rappers I monkey flip em with the funky rhythm I be kickin Musician, inflictin composition of pain I’m like Scarface sniffin cocaine Holdin a M-16, see with the pen I’m extreme, now Bulletholes left in my peepholes I’m suited up in street clothes Hand me a nine and I’ll defeat foes Y’all know my steelo with or without the airplay I keep some E&J, sittin bent up in the stairway Or either on the corner bettin Grants with the celo champs Laughin at baseheads, tryin to sell some broken amps G-Packs get off quick, forever niggaz talk shit Remeniscing about the last time the Task Force flipped Niggaz be runnin through the block shootin Time to start the revolution, catch a body head for Houston Once they caught us off guard, the Mac-10 was in the grass and I ran like a cheetah with thoughts of an assassin Pick the Mac up, told brothers, “Back up,” the Mac spit Lead was hittin niggaz one ran, I made him backflip Heard a few chicks scream my arm shook, couldn’t look Gave another squeeze heard it click yo, my shit is stuck Try to cock it, it wouldn’t shoot now I’m in danger Finally pulled it back and saw three bullets caught up in the chamber So now I’m jetting to the building lobby and it was filled with children probably <b>…</b>