(The Lox)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
What up Looch (What up, what up D-Block)
We did it again shocks, no doubt
Yeah (It's The Lox!) Still, ain't nothin' changed (Still a ghost)
It's still a ghost baby (Come on, what's up, yeah, yeah, yeah)
You see me don't say shit n***a (Grab ya burner and bust off)
What (Uh huh, uh huh) yo, hey yo...

(Sheek)
You know that motherfucker Sheek Looch is a gladiator
Like Russell Crowe, with my heat in a rad-iator
I come through slow you out there I'm lettin' it go
I got fire for ya ducks you want lissome dro
That's why I ain't got mercy for pigs
Off the roof, I let shit parachute to their wigs and their kids
I treat their face like I'm goin' to my safe
Ten to the left, six to the right (Ha ha)
240 pounds and I ain't tryin' to fight
And they don't make cuffs strong enough to lock me in
And your vest ain't thick enough to stop all ten
The sergeant be callin' up ya next-of-kin
But FUCK THAT my guns gotta speech problem
They stutter when they spit
Go through you when they hit
My shit ain't got no manners
Chromed out sniper rifle with the tank bananas, uh uh
(Hook: Jadakiss)
Training day, you could hear the sirens
All the cops crooked like who you people jivin'
Head shots, shoot between the eyes
And bullets in the dome like all you cowards dyin'
Knife work, stab you in the heart and the throat
And we don't leave till you gargle or choke
And we Black Mob, L-O-X guerilla n***as
Show you how to kill a n***a, you ain't got to feel a n***a

(Styles)
I love my n***as, why wouldn't I
Die for my motherfuckers, how couldn't I
Want a lot of things but it just ain't affordable
Only thing that count when you die is what they thought of you
Kid comin' through with a clip full of cop killers
Booted out something decent
Up to light a blunt, wild out, and shoot it out with the precinct
Cops stay crooked, my n***as ain't nice see
Cause the block stay cookin' I'm coolin' it off
When the pigs come through they medullas is off
Where I'm from dog you rude or you soft
If you say you a killer n***as'll ask you who did you off
So P keep this hustlin' up
When it comes to these guns or these knives n***a I'm fuckin' you up
And baby we can knuckle it up
I'm always up for a brawl
S-P and I done been through it all
(Hook)
(Sheek)
Hey yo, now I know you seen n***as with half a bodies
On top of skateboards, the work of shotties
Shit bags and all that, back to potties
I ain't a playa but my nine keeps em' hotties
And we don't run when we hear (* Police Sirens *)
I just hit em' off with cake so they give us a break
And let us know who rattin'
I leave their bodies in the middle of Manhattan
Where Wall Street at, come on

(Styles)
I said all the cops hate us and they got a good reason to
Forty bricks a month, no account unbelievable
Homicide here and there, bitches in pajamas
Holdin' llamas in they dairy-air, playin the fun
We the 3-5-4 boys, play if you one
All they do is call the cop on us
See us in the hood they know we got the Glocks on us
Poppin' em' off
N***as call me the cab driver now I'm droppin em' off

(Hook x2)