Lil? Fame:

Seventy-five
Raised on a strip called here brotha hill
Where guns pop and cops get killed
This is the place where paranoya
Destroyin? niggas cash cases mo? try to flash they lawyers
We?re losin? it
Four fives and knives we be movin? wit
Caught up in the things that the street game confused you wit
We?re provin? it
Let it be known if retaliation
Home-skillet – it?s on
That rap nigga bust a cap nigga flat nigga
Open up your back nigga Rosewood black nigga
First family gone brawl
It?s president?s resident, and I?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 Lil? Fame: 2X

It?s a 4 alarm blaze
Everybody post up next to the stage
Come on
You?re all welcome to hell?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
We?re back soldier
And we have swam through the Brownsville sewers
The last on the line of our kind CRIME DO?ERS
Burkowitz MOB STYLE
Spit fire from my hammer like I wasn?t God?s child
Crucify me – but don?t deny me
Or get slit bitch you couldn?t slip nothin? by me
Try me and I?ll pop shots like I?m supposed to
I?m from the field where the covers are unnoticable
I?ve noticed a few niggas wantin? my head
Used my smarts and my secret all are firin? lead (Fire ya lead)
With all intentions of droppin? a body
I?m usually nervous so I?m flinchin? 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:
Introducin? the best kept secret
It?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 it?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
Makin? whatever was in my way easy to di-tect
I wrecks guys
Over money gone Saratoga son be in a Columbian necktie
We don?t respects by
Half-ass niggas
Blast niggas
Gas niggas who won?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 ain?t to impress you
What the fuck niggas commentin on my shit fo?
I?m real – how you think I got rich ho?
Pack steel – ain?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 it?s Jay-hovah
I?m too right wit it, too tight wit it
You light witted but if you?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

“Yeah, they talkin about rap.”
“We don’t rap, its not about rap we livin it what they talkin about.
It’s not about college or what you read in a newspaper or magazine. Its hear its reality, this is our nature. Its how we live.”

[Guru]

Now everybody on Earth wanna rap, we burnt all of that
Knocked off the game, and cold broke is spat
Gang Starr, will Billy Danze and Big Slap
Word to Laze, big schools and big gats
You didn’t whip it right so pick up the pace
Word to grimy niggas, they want to stick up the place
Word to hiphop, plus a crib that’s laced
Primo’s breaks, activate the mental, that’s all
We got credentials galore, fuck a small vending tour
Yet, still, I be at the around-the-way spots
Near where niggas be slinging innocent get hit by straight shots
And brave cops, protect the community
While corrupt cops, be harrasing you and me
Pullin me over, in front of the crib, in front of my neighbors
Askin for favors, here’s a cassette and why you
question my behavior?
Pursuing me, trying to catch me off quard
I shrug scars, you see a lot of hoes at thug bars
I don’t care what these beats my do
We’ll sun you, plus I see right through
Its way it means to me and M.O.P.
Just To Get a Rep, nigga, you best to step, nigga, Salute!

Chorus:

Holdin it down
Phony ass rappers
Dead serious
Finish em
(Is this hiphop) Hell no this is war
Heavy artillery, in my vicinty
*repeat – change 5th line to: M.O.P.*

[Billy Danze]

Aiyyo, the game’s called surivival *echoes* I admit
As a soldier, I’ve done a lot of shit
To the so-called tough dude, I ain’t mad at you
But I wish I wouldn’t of had to do the shit I had to do
It’s true, I would jump up in a Bamma
And travle miles of road to unload this hammer
(And I) Notice ?colors? when they glance
At the baby boy of Haddy and Frank Danze
I won’t stress the blazin
But I will think about what size slug best for the occasion
(It’s so amazin) ???? pop shit
Like Windy Williams till you fuckers bury me
(Who we be!) What, what’s wrong, nigga?
(First Family) Come, come on, nigga!
(Ain’t nothin cute) My niggas is ready to shoot
For the love of the First Family thugs, Salute!

Chorus

[Lil’ Fame]

Before you slit your wrist, bitch, imagine this
M.O.P., Gang Starr (Damn!) hazardous
Thugs that got love for this hiphop and shit
Makin words rhyme at the same time poppin shit
I used to go to jams, and drop grammar
Before I left niggas told me (Boy take your hammer!)
Sure nuff, shit got rowdy
Dumped off my first clip at a house party
I love this rap shit, though, the love is clear
But fuck the parties, my nigga, I lost a brother there
Only if I’m gettin paid (That’s right)
And the shit gon’ benefit the trade
I snatch a mic, turn it out, bad
Even have you smooth niggas fuckin up yours shoes and your outfit
I be, the Brownsville slugger (Signing out)
Act like you know what I’m about, Salute!

Chorus

Brooklyn! Uh, yeah! Now, check this shit out

Verse one: O.C.

Now check this motherfucking capo right here
Mash Out Posse SLASH O.C. come together like a glock and a clip
We gon’ jam when its time to blast!
Big niggaz that rap, we bout to get in your ass
We done played the background, ay-yo all my peops
I’m naming names, fuck it, it’s on
I’m taking it back to some Brooklyn shit
With this ten-man clique
Who don’t know how to act, lookin for some niggaz to hit
And if you ever think it can’t happen to you
You might just end up in the East River with some bale-ass shoes
I ain’t playin no more, I’m gonna bring it to your ass raw
I flipped the word around, nigga, this means WAR
Yo, fuck that, Brooklyn’s on the map forever
To Billy and Fame, I hope you niggaz down for whatever
With Mike, go get the guns when its time to shoot
To Brooklyn I give a 21-GUN SALUTE
(Come on)

Chorus:

Flatbush *cut and scratched*
–Crown Heights– “Thought I’d remind y’all”
Brownsville *cut and scratched* (Firing Squad)
“Thought I’d remind y’all” *scratching*
Bushwick *cut and scratched* “(See I) Thought I’d remind y’all”
*cut and scratched*
–East New York– “Thought I’d remind y’all”

Verse two: Lil’ Fame

I used to roll ’em, this is a holdup
MAKE em roll up, come up out your clothes and get your whole shit swole
up
This game ain’t changed cause I became a rapping dude
I’m still a black cat, quick, and straight clapping dude
(Try to act rude) Play the mascott
With your clown ass ways, these days, look what your ass got
Clap, shot the body, I’m keeping it real
That cartoon ass nigga thought he was King of the Hill
That whole shit was animation, immitation
When I shipped that ass on out, like immigration
Ways of Emancipation, Proclamation
Constitutional rights, the LAST GENERATION
Your facin, M.O.P., O.G.’s
Flippin this track with O.C.
Niggaz know we, hold this shit down for Brooklyn, nigga!
Where guns spark and leave them things smoking, nigga!

Chorus

Verse three: Billy Danze

Hot damn! Danze shot your head
Full cooperation, I’m taking donations, ante up the bread
(Clap, clap!) You got that fat while we were gone
So the balance that I wrote like, we’re taking on
Put the rest of that shit in the bag
I would tear your ass to pieces, so you please don’t make me mad
(Here we go again!) You ain’t known, I control my destiny
I only got love for the thugs that’s next to me
(Who that?) Berkuance, soldier, I’m ill
*pause* I told ya, I’m real!
And I’ve been doing a double danly
Everyone ?from my crew is sayin? (Daddy, don’t fail me)
Hold on, the way that I jettin my foes may never be even
I’m one of them dudes that niggaz refuse to believe in
(Life is full of obstacles!) so keep weeping
(At 24-years old) My only goal is too keep breathing

Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh

[Lil Fame]
I’m back and I’m stuck up in this bitch [who dat?]
Me bitch [who dat?]
The Brooklyn thug, what the fuck you see bitch?
I’m known for regulatin this game, fuck a critic
Cuz when I’m spittin, I’ma split your shitit
When I aim, yo you try to get a name
But aint, provin a thang
I’m still doin my thang,[go head] bells they still ring [uh huh]
Now who the lame that wan’ tango with Lil Fame
Step in the ring and I’ll break yo’ ass up like Mills Lane
[AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!] How you like me now?
That *Kool Moe P* shit, nigga, put it down
Yo I need a silencer gat, shit too loud
When that bitch start to holla, nigga do child
Made the church people on your block wanna move out
I bump off and I dump off, and a nigga cool out
Why? Cuz when we in the place with the guns in our waist
We don’t say put your hands up, niggas stand up
You gotta get it, cuz you now listen
Dump off your body ?til your whole family die fishin?
The street mayor, ghetto street playa
Hit your hooker with this heavy dick meat playa ass cheek flare
Fuck the fame!, I agree fuck the fame
But I got four words for ya, don’t fuck with Fame
Cuz I’m a machine gun kelley, clappa dude
Write my name across your belly, DRDRDRDRDRDRDRDR yap a dude!
Aint no escapin these streets I’m raised in
It’s so amazin, we still blazin
Aint no savin yo’ ass from hell raisin
They be strippin your cantelope off the pavement
Wit yo’ wig split in half and your chest caved in
So walk on the green, I’ma cut yo’ ass down if you walk in between
So listen up and hear me boy, I’m the American [slash!] pretty boy

HOOK:
First Fam, ridiculous
Violaters try to get with us, we quick to bust
Them false dudes can’t get wit us
Hoes grillin cuz we too tough, too real, too raw, too rough
First Fam, ridiculous
Fools try to move but them fools can’t get wit us
Cuz we holdin, blastin, lowlin, blastin, strollin, trashin, rollin,
MASHIN!!

[Billy Danze]
I done figured it out [what’s that?]
They don’t want us to shine [true]
You lost your mind if you thought I tossed my iron
I still got it, for when I’m facin situations like this
You dissin? I’m hittin
Listen, is it me or the industry to understand
I’m a whole different breed of man
Bill Danze, Brownsville, Bronx
And I’m servin double and single shots on the rocks, nigga [AAAAAAAHHH!!]
What! Who gon’ tame me
I’m a back block nigga and can’t, nobody change me
You can look at me strangely
Keep yappin at your dogs if I go up in your mouth, don’t blame me
First Family trainee, take what’s mine
’99 is my time to shine, that’s that
[Take it easy] Fuck that, I’m ready yo
I refuse to dilute jewels for you fools on this radio
Fizzy Wo’, [suckas never played us]
They can’t fade us, they hate us, they anus
In fact when you touch ’em face to face, they stay in they place
They know I’m slayed up from the right side left five in one fist
Shutup! Shutup! Now you wanna show love
You hear the soft music in the background it’s your brain on slugs
Now, it’s a dirty job but somebody gotta do it
So I crept up, stepped up, got to it [FIRE!!]