[Intro: The Notorious B.I.G.]
\nUh, check it out, uhh (Man, I'm back, man)
\nI steps in, where the Mo' and the hoes at, baby? (Fuck all that pretty shit)
\nTaking it back to the gutter for you motherfuckers (Niggas know the deal)
\nNiggas know who the Don is (Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest one)
\nPeep game, uh, what, what, what
\n
\n[Verse 1: Puff Daddy]
\nOut of this world like Mars when I spit these bars
\nCome fuck with these stars up in luxury cars (Yeah)
\nWith built-in radars to stay free from the cops
\nCrucial choices to make, like AC or the drop? (Haha)
\nAre we gon' stop? Shit, man, never my squad go broke
\nYour squad oughta choke, watch your circle vanish like cigar smoke
\nAin't no joke when your ones don't show
\nNigga, I know, might say, "Been there, done that" like Dre (Uh-huh)
\nThrough hard work, I earn the vault
\nPromise God to never look back, or I turn to salt (Yeah)
\nGot nice watches, nice cars, nice bitches, and rings (C'mon)
\nGuess it's safe to say a nigga like me got nice things (That's right)
\nCan't relate to motherfuckers who ain't go no cake (Uh-uh)
\nWhen you all fucked up and can't get no break (Uh-huh)
\nWhen your fake-ass friends don't help you out when you need it
\nBe on some real bullshit, politely tell you to beat it (Uh)
\nFuck that, get your own, nigga, don't ask me for shit
\nThat's what I did, now they all asking for hits (Yeah)
\nNigga, it's on for the simple fact I let it be known
\nWe still fly, but separately, 'cause now I charter my own (C'mon)
\nPropellers, goodfellas, leave all 'em player-haters jealous
\nBillboard charts should tell us (Yeah)
\nThey can't touch us, why niggas bring the ruckus?
\nBecause release dates' bigger than Mandela's, motherfuckers
\n
\n[Chorus: Kelly Price & Jay-Z]
\nJust some ghetto boys
\nLiving in these ghetto streets (These ghetto streets)
\nAnd every day, they gotta fight to stay alive
\nIt's just reality (Yeah, make you a deal, check)
\n
\n[Verse 2: Jay-Z]
\nThese here's the dog years and motherfuckers don't shed
\nI try to bring you life, but motherfuckers want dead
\nSo I travel with the barrel, with the chrome, with the lead
\n'Cause when it's on, then it's on, the shots flown through your head
\nI been rich, I been poor, I saved and blown bread
\nSome say I been here before because of the way I zone
\nSome said Jigga's zone's like the falling of Rome
\nReoccurring, that he thinks like that 'cause he's observant
\nWon't be known until I'm gone and niggas study my bones
\nMentally, been many places, but I'm Brooklyn's own
\nIn the physical, unseen like Allah's body
\nIn fact, my thoughts don't differ much from that of God Body
\nBut it's the R-shotty that got cats likening me to the mob John Gotti
\nRap dudes biting me 'cause I got it locked like the late Bob Marley
\nPardon me, y'all, the great Bob Marley
\nSolemnly, we mourn all the rappers that's gone
\nNiggas that got killed in the field and all the babies born
\nKnow they ain't fully prepared for this New World Order
\nSo I keep it ghetto like sunflower seeds and quarter waters
\nTo walk 'em through it, you know, talk 'em through it
\nKnow these beats is more than music whenever I talk to it
\nDestined for greatness, and y'all knew this when I doubled the buy
\nHad a shorty in a girdle coming out of BWI (In school)
\nI hated algebra, but I loved to multiply
\nAnd I told my nigga B.I.G. I'd be multi before I die
\nAnd it's gon' happen, whether rapping or clapping, have it your way
\n'Cause if that's my dough you're trapping, I'm clapping your way, it's for the ghetto
\n
\n[Chorus: Kelly Price]
\nJust some ghetto boys
\nLiving in these ghetto streets
\nAnd every day they gotta fight to stay alive (To stay alive)
\nIt's just reality (Oh, reality)
\n
\n[Verse 3: The Notorious B.I.G.]
\nDamn, it feel good to see people up on it (Uh)
\nFlipped two keys in two weeks and didn't flaunt it (Uh-huh)
\nMy brain is haunted with mean dreams
\nGSs with BBs on it, supreme schemes
\nTo get richer than Richie quickly, niggas wanna hit me
\nIf they get me, dress my body in linen by Armani, check it
\nMy lyrical carjack make your brains splat
\nHigh-caliber gats is all I fuck with, now peep the rough shit
\nIn my circumference, mad bitches with mad lucci
\nBulletproof vestses under they Coogis
\nSpittin' my Uzi, don't lose me, my trigger niggas represent
\nDriving dirty in J-30s gettin' bent (Uh-huh)
\nAnd to my hit hoes, my murder mamis
\nI be smokin' trees in Belize when they find me
\nWhile you still killin' niggas with punani, like Connie
\nAnd Cyrus up in Cypress
\nFuck you raw, you on the floor with the virus
\nWhile I just slang coke, smoke pounds of choke (Uh-huh)
\nGot lawyers watching lawyers so I won't go broke, now check it
\nThem country niggas call me Frank White
\nI'm squirtin' off up in my loft, of course, I know my shit's tight
\nSunrise, open my eyes, no surprise
\nGot my shorty flyin' in with kis taped to her thighs
\nWith all the utensils, who hang my china thing
\nShe half-Black, half-oriental, eighty-six, she got me rental
\nThe situation ain't accidental
\n
\n[Chorus: Kelly Price & The Notorious B.I.G.]
\nJust some ghetto boys (What? From a, from a young Gs perspective, uh)
\nLiving in these ghetto streets (What? From a, from a young Gs perspective, uh)
\nAnd every day they gotta fight to stay alive
\nIt's just reality (It's just reality)
\nJust some ghetto boys
\nLiving in these ghetto streets
\nAnd every day they gotta fight to stay alive
\nIt's just reality\n\n
