[Intro]
Yeah! Like that
Yeah! Like that
Yeah! Like that
D.I.T.C., '97
So what you sayin'?
[Verse 1: Diamond D]
Now, it's the mad magician with the ill deposition
No repetition, holdin' down Bronx traditions
My composition simply squash the competition
Step up and get beat into a submission
'Cause this musician with the street intuition
735 fuel-injected transmission
My opposition will have to recognize my steez
Exotic trees leave a trail of scuffed up knees
So please, you couldn't touch this cat with a stick
Quick to inflict tricks, blaze up in the flicks
Son, I'm sick and you could put that on my mama
Exclamation point, quotation, comma
Lay up on the beaches when I'm down in the Bahama
The skills go back to the days of Wonderama
So pass the scama, son, it's time to get this money
So we can relax and recline where it's sunny
[Verse 2: Big L]
I went from standin' on the corner sellin' cocaine
To rippin' shows live on stage for hoes yellin' my name
To be precise, rippin' mics is the light of my life
You frontin' like you trife, but never pulled a heist in your life
The price of my ice is sky-high, I'm a fly guy
That's every thug's dream, I really love cream, it's in my bloodstream
You mad 'cause I got more chicks than you, more bricks than you
More .9's and extra clips than you
Where I live, it ain't a nice town, you can't walk around iced-down
Some clown probably gettin' stuck right now
Peace to D.I.T.C., Show and A.G
Fat J-O-E, Diamond D, Lord Finesse and me
I'm from the East Coast, this is how we roll in New York
A bunch of rowdy niggas holdin' the fort
Jackin' creeps, packin' heat, these Harlem streets is for keeps
Much love to all my peeps who got covered with sheets
[Chorus: Fat Joe]
Yo, most these rap cats don't know where it started, where it came from
We been reppin' this shit since day one
Diggin' In The Crates originators
Why niggas playa hate us knowin' damn well they can't fade us?
[Verse 3: A.G.]
You better take me out quick, 'cause I'm accurate when I bust mine
And make it count like Jordan at crunch time
Just in case I play Fishburne and double up on 9's
You could never make it rain, or stop my sunshine
So I keep eyes on these chumps the whole time
Take note of your technique like we scheme on dimes
Disregard your truth, fuck your heart!
Put a slug in me, it'll be marriage 'til death do us part
Until then, master this art and kill them
With the pen it's dramatic, automatics, I commit sins
Hold my head, but when I've had it, I test chins
If that ain't real, then feel the stainless steel
Bang 'em and hang 'em like they did our relatives
Thought he was the best on the mic that ever lived? Negative!
Wu-diggity, if you with me, then say, "Word!"
Lets get twisted like bottlecaps, (and) create like Spielberg
[Verse 4: Lord Finesse]
Check the referral, man, my whole squad's thorough
We worldwide, niggas just nice in one borough
We all gleam, plus we fiend for more cream
You got some nice players, they just on the wrong team, naaah'mean?!
As the world turns
To who it concern, we'll set you straight like a perm
Rap apostle, lyrical-type Picasso
Kinda hostile, nothin' less than colossal
You dig me like fossils, be the cat with the groovy soul
A lot of rappers out here actin' with no movie roles
You know the deal
I represent skills and niggas with bent grills that live to make a mill
On the real, that's my motto, too hard to follow
Will die in sorrow before I'm goin' out like Gravato
Hard to hit like Lotto, underworld role models
D.I.T.C., we be them cats of tomorrow
[Chorus: Fat Joe]
Most these rap cats don't know where it started, where it came from
We been reppin' this shit since day one
Diggin' In The Crates originators
Why niggas playa hate us knowin' damn well they can't fade us?
[Verse 5: O.C.]
Holdin' it down for D.I.T.C, niggas stink like feces
Comin' against raw dogs, you lost!
The way I stimulate rhyme in rhythmatic timin'
On beat, off-beat, drunk flow, here we go
Assignments handed out
Each individual stand out, carryin' his own clout
Phenomenal Moses of rap, I pose a threat
Foes I put 'em on a block like a hole in the pen
Lyrical genocide on the witty side
Niggas give me respect due, like the pope in a synagogue
Who weighin' my odds? O.C. far from a fraud
You waste my time, nigga, so I bag your broad
Blow your mind, ditto, with no conscience
I decide the law, motherfucker, I'm Congress
This concludes my repertoire of what I be on
Emcees make way for mines and get peed on
Fuck that!
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