| (feat. Armaggedon, Big L, Fat Joe) | |
| [Fat Joe] | |
| Diggin In The Crates 9-9 | |
| Don Carta bomb harder | |
| Uh, still diggin ya'll | |
| Yeah, Big L, yeah | |
| Yeah, there's only one way for me to explain | |
| The key to this game is longev, keep it the same | |
| The seeds'll remain, only if they bringin the pain | |
| Hip-hop won't stop like the heat in my veins | |
| The streets know my name, Don Carta bomb harder | |
| My persona is honored in the Bronx as my alma matter | |
| I'm smarter than the average Joe, packin a flow | |
| That's stackin the dough, bring the triz in the bag and let's go | |
| It's Fat Joe, I'ma set it straight | |
| If you do your hist. I exist through Diggin In The Crates | |
| Bringin in the ace, had to stay up late | |
| Playin the corners but never seen a day upstate | |
| Til the day I escape or see Tone at the pearly gates | |
| I continue to run shit even after the computer breaks | |
| You know the rates, fifty-thou for every verse that's foul | |
| As I bring rhymes to life like the birth of a child | |
| [Chorus: Armaggedon] | |
| We all self-centered, it's our world you just in it | |
| Check the VIP part of the club, flooded wit women | |
| Push a plush tinted truck wit thugs in it | |
| You never catch any one of us broke wit no dubs drivin the limit | |
| It's our way of life, you in the game better play it right | |
| Buy a house wit only my chains, so playa name your price | |
| Fly nigga, since we was crawlin, you can ask our pops | |
| You ain't really ballin wit that, so nigga pass the rock | |
| [Big L] | |
| Check it, my whole crew holdin | |
| We all got rides wit extra features | |
| It's a bunch of ya'll, one got dough, the rest is leeches | |
| You probably mad cuz I be sexin divas | |
| I should pull this pistol out and make you touch your sneakers | |
| I'm on some cool out shit, but I will pull this tool out quick | |
| And put some holes in your new outfit | |
| You frontin hard cuz you whip a Range | |
| But it's a 4.0, you nerd nigga, you heard Jigga now get your change | |
| You ain't a willy you a small soldier | |
| Give it up son it's all over | |
| And you never sold a, pound of cane | |
| You a clown wit fame, goin down the drain | |
| All yo' shit sound the same | |
| I'ma shine pop-o, cuz when you got dough your rocks glow | |
| L got a hot flow that rap coppo | |
| I'm Uptown's smoothest, my first album left you clowns clueless | |
| Sayin I'm wack, you niggas sound foolish | |
| Niggas hate to see L bubble, they'd rather see L struggle | |
| Cuz what they sell, I'ma sell double | |
| You wanna see rocks, then look at L's wrist | |
| If you see me in the club drinkin Mo' that means they don't sell Cris, what! | |
| [Chorus] |
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