Woorden: Buddha Monk. Unreleased Chambers. Peep The Steez.

[Intro: Crave]
(This is the collaboration)
This is the way we walk in New York
This is the way we walk in New York

[Buddha Monk:]
We moving darts, (hey yo) so don't move too close
Cause the darts we throw might turn ya ghost
It's Brooklawn warrior, battle cat, shogun
Destroyer, major in, tearing asses and limbs
We don't give a fuck, what click ya claim
To us ya lame, same rap, changed around, doing ya thing
But as long as ya don't claim that ya better than I
My slugs won't have to penetrate, right there, through ya eye
I move with caution cause caution won't let bleed
Inject, lead to verses that elite any team
It's Born Universal Divine Definite, nigga
Hot ass raps that burn, through ya ass quick

[Crave:]
I'm the type, that'll, ram through you bastards
Have ya bitch Waiting to Exhale like Angela Bassett
I leave ya man in a casket
Switch the guns like Nas in Belly then I ran with the ratchet
Y'all about to face a bitter end
Like when, Tony said "Say hello to my little friend"
I got a will to win, and, I catch attention
Like I'm marching through, with a million men
How real is him? Take a double take, look again
I been nice, y'all need to, push ya pen
It's C-R-A-V-E, you couldn't play me, if you copped eight CD's

[Chorus x2: Main Event]
Peep the steez, black Timbs, green fatigues
Black bubble NorthFace when it's zero degrees
Cop and squeeze, especially if ya watch on freeze
Drop ta ya knees, before I put the glock to ya spleen

[Main Event:]
No matter the time, no matter the weather, my pockets get cheddar
Seeing chicks get wet like I totes umbrella
Refusing to lose, breaking up rules, smacking up fools
Taking my time, analyze the choices I choose
Changing the game, living my life, ice in the Christ
Fucking with Main, you sleep and Bush is paying the price
Rolling a dice, taking a risk, knowing my rights
Starting of fights, ghetto girls on bed sheets and bikes

[Popi (Che Logan):]
Who am I? The one, the time, the rhyme, the nine
My gun, my mind, I'm deep, we creep, retreat, we won
Elite, we heat, the streets, defeat, the Sun
(Roll out) Throw out the speak to shake ya Jeep
(No doubt) Any weed you blow, we keep the 'dro
My nigga, weak beats you flow, son spit it, come get it
We pure, one sniff (ugh), don't forget it, we dope
The shit, equipped with stress, regrets and visions
(Man listen) I walk and talk when money's involved
A grifter, no problems, little sonny can solve
Fuck ya waves, cause only thing spinning
Be the rims, slim and the gun it revolve
Yo I walk these streets like (I wish a nigga would)
Fuck with my team (I wish a nigga could)
Pop pop (What's that?) They shooting (Bust back
And that's the end of they little gun rap)

[Chorus x2]