Released: December 22, 1998

Featuring: The LOX JAY-Z

Songwriter: Styles P Swizz Beatz DMX JAY-Z Sheek Louch Jadakiss

Producer: Swizz Beatz

[Intro: Sheek Louch & Jadakiss]
Jay!
Fuck that
This is it, right here, baby!
You know what it is

[Verse 1: Jadakiss]
Yo, I used to have bad luck; now, you might see me in a Jag truck
Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck
Double-R tee with the matching bandanna
.38-snub, blue steel with no hammer
And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss
'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist
Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon
And you know I'm still writing the mean, lighting the green
I need the bucket, even though I look, right in the beam
Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails
Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales
We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label
'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you
They call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know
Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow
I got a lot of horsepower, so I'm able to skip
Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip
You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh), a hundred for The LOX (Yeah)
And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop
Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet
And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck

[Verse 2: Sheek Louch]
Uh-huh, yeah, aiyyo
Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson
New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads
Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds
And that's warning, if you all alive in the morning, that's fine
Now, I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine
I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains
I got niggas my pops' age that lifestyle ain't changed
It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow
Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho (Ha!)
I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted (Style on these niggas!)
And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)
That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause I don't fuck with shoes
And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told
I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole
'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?
Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine
Fuck with me, you be a "was nigga": "Nigga WAS dope"
"Nigga WAS gettin money" 'fore I extorted your coke
'Ju crazy? Haha

[Verse 3: Styles P]
Aiyyo, catch me with a .38, box of shells
In a '98 Lincoln, eating pasta shells
Order to go, always got a box of Ls
Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig
I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig
I pop shit 'cause I'm the second-best; the first was B.I.G
Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father
'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver
If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered
I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit
You hold your nine if you holding a brick, common sense
Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent
L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale
Us and DMX: the Ruff Ryder cartel
Thirsty to live—oh, y'all niggas eager to die?
I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime
Motherfucker!

[Verse 4: Jay-Z]
Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster
I sleep whole winters; wake up and spit summers
Ghetto nigga, putting up Will Smith numbers (Ugh)
Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers, bitches among us
Trying not to let this bullshit become us
It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane
Now, bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number
The chickens I twisted (Ugh) see the digits unlisted (Yeah)
The beeper done changed
You dead, bitch; the Reaper done came
I suggest niggas stop speaking my name
'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain
I keep creeping, streets keep watching, I keep popping
Niggas is hotheads and the bullets is heat-seeking
Jay flow for pesos; chase hoes, not!
I just circle 'round the block in a drop
Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)
Where the sunroof used to be
I can see y'all not used to me
Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh!)
I'm the meanest, toughest Don Dada to gun-butt ya
You the type that bust a lot of shots, and none touch you (Fuck)
I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch you
Motherfuckers! Ugh
Y'all niggas bout to witness a dynasty like no other
Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh

[Verse 5: DMX]
Uh-huh-uh-huh uh, grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
I'm headed nowhere fast (Ugh), running in place, gun in my waist
Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)
So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again
So now what I do? Start naming names again (What!)
All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (Ugh!)
Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark
We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas
Styles, Sheek, Jay... We comin' with like four niggas (Aight?)
Y'all niggas best to stop playin'
It'll be the ones you forgotten about
That'll get you shot in your mouth
ARF! ARF! Got my dogs covered (Ugh!)
Plus it's all gravy, like chicken when it's smothered (What!)
It's Dark, and I LOVE IT! (Ugh!)
Get him, boy, let him loose (C'mon!)
You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (C'mon!)

DMX

Earl Simmons better known by his stage name DMX (An acronym for DarkMan X) rose to fame in the late 1990’s.

His stage name pays tribute to the Oberheim DMX drum machine, an instrument he used when he made his own rap beats in the 80’s.

To date, his best-selling album is his 1999 album …And Then There Was X, which featured the hit single “Party Up (Up in Here)”.