LilÂ’ Fame:

Seventy-five
Raised on a strip called here brotha hill
Where guns pop and cops get killed
This is the place where paranoya
DestroyinÂ’ niggas cash cases moÂ’ try to flash they lawyers
WeÂ’re losinÂ’ it
Four fives and knives we be movinÂ’ wit
Caught up in the things that the street game confused you wit
WeÂ’re provinÂ’ it
Let it be known if retaliation
Home-skillet - itÂ’s on
That rap nigga bust a cap nigga flat nigga
Open up your back nigga Rosewood black nigga
First family gone brawl
ItÂ’s presidentÂ’s resident, and IÂ’m the first dog
You know the M.O.P status
In the history of crime and rap we some the baddest
Word to the mommy
Any fool try me
Get hit wit the Llama
Fuck cuminana

Chorus - Teflon and LilÂ’ Fame: 2X

ItÂ’s a 4 alarm blaze
Everybody post up next to the stage
Come on
YouÂ’re all welcome to hellÂ’s roadway
First family style
Buck ass wild
What ya say

Billy Danze:

Get ya man on the jack soldier
Grip your mac soldier
FIRST FAMILY
WeÂ’re back soldier
And we have swam through the Brownsville sewers
The last on the line of our kind CRIME DOÂ’ERS
Burkowitz MOB STYLE
Spit fire from my hammer like I wasnÂ’t GodÂ’s child
Crucify me - but donÂ’t deny me
Or get slit bitch you couldnÂ’t slip nothinÂ’ by me
Try me and IÂ’ll pop shots like IÂ’m supposed to
IÂ’m from the field where the covers are unnoticable
IÂ’ve noticed a few niggas wantinÂ’ my head
Used my smarts and my secret all are firinÂ’ lead (Fire ya lead)
With all intentions of droppinÂ’ a body
IÂ’m usually nervous so IÂ’m flinchinÂ’ when I enter the party
THE BROWNSVILLE NECTAR
That bullshit
Just when you thought it was safe I flipped and hit ‘em wit more shit


Chorus 2X:


Teflon:

IntroducinÂ’ the best kept secret
ItÂ’s no sweet shit I sleep wit green beret
Blaze enemies frequent
I speak wit authority
(Black) Perhaps through four to be
Cap quarterly blazed till itÂ’s quiet and orderly
The gunsmoke make son soak
The smoke run through the barrel until the gun choke
Raised cold-hearted and deadly
Survive wit a nickel-plated tool and jewels old-timer done fed me
Keep my grip steady
Squeeze till they drop off
Make sure all other guns are popped off as heavy
Blowin some high-tech shit
Through your projects
MakinÂ’ whatever was in my way easy to di-tect
I wrecks guys
Over money gone Saratoga son be in a Columbian necktie
We donÂ’t respects by
Half-ass niggas
Blast niggas
Gas niggas who wonÂ’t blast
The sect die

All: 2X

Just when you thought it was safe
The mad shell posse hit you off wit another taste
Uh (Uh) Uh (Uh) Uh (Uh ) Uh (Uh)
Yeah (Yeah) Yeah (Yeah) Yeah (Yeah) Yeah (Yeah)

Jay-Z:

Yeah, uh-huh, what the fuck
Two asked quick for bastards to step to
Leave wounds too drastic for rescue
When I rock jewels it ainÂ’t to impress you
What the fuck niggas commentin on my shit foÂ’
IÂ’m real - how you think I got rich ho?
Pack steel - ainÂ’t afraid to let a clip go
I got enough paper to get low
Come back when the shit blow over get the dough over
Huh wit the Rover snatch the gat from the clip holder
Rip through ya shoulder bitch itÂ’s Jay-hovah
IÂ’m too right wit it, too tight wit it
You light witted but if youÂ’re feel ya nice nigga spit it
Who am I?
JAY-Z MOTHAFUCKA
Do or die
IN BROWNSVILLE MOTHAFUCKA
Blocka, rocka, M.O.P collabo
Front on us and gats blow ya know?

Chorus: 2X