Released: June 4, 2002

Featuring: AZ Cormega Foxy Brown

Songwriter: Tone AZ Cormega Foxy Brown Poke Dave Atkinson Nas

Producer: Dave Atkinson

[Verse 1: Foxy Brown]
Check it, uhh
Protect this, nigga, for the necklace, I throw the death wish
The pretty slim sex shit to rep this
Remember Fox said this, we on some next shit
We are blessed this, the scars on our back mean we meant this
To lie for 'em, the 25-sentence to keep my eyes on 'em
I'm straight, knowin' Allah'll shine on 'em
Shitty drugs and drama, opposite 3 pretty thugs and a don mama
Fill in the rest, the steel in they chest
When Boogs threw the kiss of death, it was over and we laid out
Chill, I was open off the way he ate out
It was real, for real, I was fuckin' with mills and he was frag-ile
You wildin', the Brown Stallion stay stylin'
On the low foulin', the whole Firm wildin'
We lucked it, I know the trick bitch he fuck with
On some duct shit, heard through the grape that she suck dick
Firm, Sos and Esco, mad loco, Fox and 'Mega for whatever
And through this cheddar, we gon' stay family 'til we fry, though
The fam will never split even if one of us got old
Along with our Kikos, we gon' blaze 'til the brick goes
Peep the Na-Na, sweet taboo, 'The Firm' tattooed on the ta-ta
Now, tell me what crew will hold it down like we do, Da-Da?

[Verse 2: AZ]
'Til the death of this, murderous moves pursue effortless
Iced necklace, high-priced dressed executives
Peep the grammar, slim built, strong stamina
.44 nickel-plate long with the silencer
Play for keeps, any shut-eye, you stay sleep
Shit remain deep, get shells thrown at ya Range Jeep
Giuliani sweep got all the kings goin' up creek
Devil life biz, now, who left controllin' the streets?
No intelligence, strictly slow niggas minds are negligent
It's evident, Feds vest-up, raid ya residence
We're all for livin', heavyweight Firm division
Mind detect mind, eatin' swine's against my religion
You know the steez, take aim; cock and squeeze
It's the prophecies, not the philosophies of Socrates
Next up? (Yo, I believe that's me)
Aiyo 'Mega, represent for the family

[Verse 3: Cormega]
Aiyo, the Feds got me in the Top 10
'Cause when my door got knocked in, my .44 made cops spin
My sinister mind shines like a Dillinger
'Mega exhausted, baby-faced crime emperor
Yo, life is based on cultures and creeds
And peep the way drugs feed a thug nigga's seeds
I've seen niggas lined up, handcuffed and tied-up
Coke prices rise when drug supplies dry-up
The Millennium drives up, rims semi blind ya eyes temporarily
Mind of 'Mega be heavily armed for felonies
Shine you could never see, the next phat cat out of NYC
It Was Written like ghetto life hieroglyphics
Livin' since my real niggas bailed me out of prison
A lot of schemes 'cause the narcotics team in Queens
Have more dollars than the knowledge of fiends
My dream is the legacy of Montana treasury
Fake thugs couldn't even take slugs or bury me

[Verse 4: Nas]
To all thoroughbreds takin' the corners, y'all need to join us
Firm — most powerful nation of rap performers
High-class generals, confidants, payin' lawyers
Swift as Oscar De La Hoya, Green Beret warriors
Fakes, I peep 'em like the J. Kennedy tape
In the nude with Jude, bustin' all in her face
In other words, yo, you see-through
My man built the Sugar Hill from a sweet tooth
We all eat 'cause I speak truth
Uneducated black youth, street diploma
Teach Greeks and Romans but the legacy was stolen
It's a Firm thing, generally gleam
I wrote the theme on how to sell a million
While you crabs is mad at ya promotion team
I roll with the nicest, Fox, black Isis pushin' Benz without a license
Gear tight as vice-grips
Nas got 19 wifies, 7 sheisty, 9 of 'em Pisces
3 white meats under Tai Chi
Wildin', big links is heavy like bricks
That you throw on a pit-bull neck while feedin' him raw steak
It's core take, more cake, I take the crown
Off the so-called king of the town and lock it down

[Outro: Jungle]
Yeah, dun, that's it, dun, y'all niggas rip that shit, yo, word is bond
That's that real shit for all y'all fake motherfuckers out there, yo
That's how we do it from Queensbridge, nigga
The Firm, what!
This is Jungle, yo, big Jungle, boy, what!?
Y'all niggas don't want it
Yo, Style, if these niggas don't know right now, yo
Fuck all them niggas then

Nas

Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones, known to one and all as Nas, is one of hip-hop’s best-known, most mercurial, and lyrically blessed figures ever to touch the microphone. Since his heart-stopping debut turn on Main Source’s “Live at the Barbeque,” Nas has delivered countless beautifully structured, thought-provoking, keenly observed verses.

Growing up in Queens, NY, Nas never really performed in big crowds—he kept to himself. Nas used a different type of vernacular that others didn’t understand, which helped him to stand out from other rappers from his era.

With every ensuing album, Nas always reminds fans that he’s still the same Queensbridge MC who crafted one of the greatest albums of all time, and arguably the bible of Hip-Hop, Illmatic.