[unknown singer]
  Ohhhhh.. senorita.. when the evening sun go down
  I ocme to.. serenade you.. from another part, of town
  {*car tires peeling out*}
  
  [Angie Martinez]
  Let's get it on it's Angie Mar' reportin live from the streets
  From Y.O. to Philly and Harlem to Q.B.
  When it drops it's game over, you'll see
  Introducing, Jadakiss and Styles P, where you at?
  
  [The L.O.X.]
  Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
  You know we still in the hood dog, in front of the store
  With the work across the street and the gun in the stall
  Soon as somethin happen niggaz wanna run to the law
  You know the code of the streets, never run to the law
  That's why I can't even run 'less I run with a four
  or I walk with a three, come and talk to 'em P
  You can catch me down bottom with a bird and a glock
  On the block makin money where they murder a lot
  Or you can catch me up top shootin dice for a yard
  I'm talkin six digits, niggaz bet the house or the car
  You can catch me hittin the spliff, sick in the pit
  On the fiend like I'm missin my shit, they think I'm crazy
  Catch me hittin your lady in my Mercedes
  Bird on your baby, fuck you I'm keepin it gravy
  L.O.X. hold the hammers
  like we waitin for screws
  With Angie Mar' BLOWIN MOTHERFUCKERS OUT OF THEY SHOES, WHAT?
  
  [Angie Martinez]
  Comin live from the streets where some died tryin to eat
  From Y.O. to Philly, from Harlem to Q.B.
  And when it drops, game over, you'll see
  Introducin, Beanie Sigel, tell me how you livin?
  
  [Beanie Sigel]
  Aiyyo, I've been kickin murder - since Adidas with thick strings
  T.I. sweatsuits, Pumas with thick chains
  Four finger rings, black belts with brass names
  I was spittin flames since niggaz was pitchin change
  I'm a hard knock kiddo, always played the middle
  Threw flacks in the crack game, getchu if I can getchu
  Since a buck, played the highway, dodgin the troop boys
  Jumpin in and out of Coupes, wavin for Duke boys
  Always chased a penny, copped quarter waters
  Tried to make a dollar chased my pop's boss daughters
  Tryin to make my name, global, in all four corners
  Philly baller, gamin in all four quarters
  Never worked, never will - all my hoes buy my clothes
  I can't go broke, never will - all my bros buy my O's
  I'm the best thing that linked up with New York since Sprewell
  I murder, nuttin further - fill in the details
  
  [Brett]
  I'm here, it's over, fuck how y'all feel
  When I drop, y'all gon' realize it's all real
  Bein left for dead, tied up, smoke 'til I was dried up
  So high up, seem like the sky ducked, high what?
  Life was rough, but now it's nothin to hide
  Used to click and be quick to put this gun to yo' side
  Be like, "That chain nice - I like that pal.
  Matter fact {*click click*} I'd like that now."
  You've got game? Call the name, just spell the name right
  Brett, one of the best rappers ever to touch a mic
  It's prophecized I'd write, spit scriptures mind blowin
  'til my coffin top close and heaven skies open
  Fear no man's my slogan, I hope y'all believe
  I'm just like you, fear nuttin human that bleeds
  My mind breed two movies, six ab-lums, a hundred poems
  Thirty R&B joints, I'm beyond the norm, y'all just mad
  I'm just glad, got my time to shine
  Y'all the type to hit three hundred bars and run out of rhymes
  
  [Angie Martinez]
  Brett, from my ByStorm family, with Angie
  Come live from the streets, from Harlem to Q.B.
  And when it drops, game over, you'll see
  Introducin, finally, the legendary Kool G.
  
  [Kool G. Rap]
  It's B.G.S. kid so what you facin? Caps racin
  Decapitation twenty buck-fifties and lacerations
  Guerilla fam' camouflaged out in the grass waitin
  to blass your nation slash like Jason and bash your face in
  We ass lacin top bodies and half in the basement
  Our style, cast you so bad you'll need plastic replacement
  When gats is raised in, fascination blastin and blazin
  Evacuation for your whole staff there's gas in the tank and
  Gets back abrasions from cap grazin, defy gravitation
  Pull my shit back squeeze bust it like masturbation
  Hold fort, hold the blow torch, leave your soul scorched
  with no remorse, the state of New York, get your shit caught
  When niggaz hawk, let the fifth talk
  So tell me who's the next man to flip?
  I stop the beef shit, with rubber handled grips
  Your candle get lit, guerilla shit feed us banana clips
  The hammers hit, anything in our range we dismantle it
  
  [Angie Martinez]
  Like to say thanks to my street correspondents, for gettin on this
  Comin live and direct with no nonsense
  Sorry folks for hurtin y'all, the previous has been brought to you
  by "Up Close and Personal"