10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4

3, 2, 1 reasons you'll never be this raw

My crew is representing for BK, don't play

Or you might have to get Crime Watch around your way

Cause Brooklyn keep on taking it, still from way back

Say black, trying to get that fortune like Sajak



There must be at least twenty reasons you can't win and

In this rap game you're hopeless, here's a top ten:

10's very simple and plain, it's petty crime

It's only '94 when you wrote your first rhyme

And now you think you got more Skil than power tools

But never could your feet fit up in our shoes

You only got one delivery

One-dimetional rappers is dead as chivalry

Don't get your spot blown up, block sewn up

I lift MC's to tone up, rip your zone up

I got more flavors than women's douche

Make ends with Mexicans and rock dreads in Flatbush

9, you can't see mine, can't find mine

Can't do mine, step to mine, when my crew find

A fronting-ass nigga, we get in this