(feat. Desert Eagle, INF-Black, King Just, Letha Face)



[Intro: U-God]

Time to strongarm this shit

This how we gon' do, dead arm this man, knowhatimsayin?

From the root to the fruit, twenty-one gun salute this shit

Uptown, Downtown, New York, down South

L.A., that's how we gon' do it, Hillside, nigga, all day



[Desert Eagle]

Meet me at the pop off, INF on the block

Hillside, get your rocks off, take it to the top

Got the whole world hatin', can't take me in the drop

Can't take it how I'm cakin' it, catch me in the spot

And you might see a veteran stance, but you'll never see a veteran dance

But you might catch me bangin' in the twat

She ain't got G, she ain't untangling my knot

In my baratone throw, here, bangin' out the box

Clubs to cell blocks, here tangle with an ox

Got gorillas in the mist, all my niggas arm with lead

So we gotta watch the killas on the strip

You already had a chance, try to kill us with a clip

One slug hit my lung, you could feel it when I spit

I'm a Hillside Scrambler, the widest in the click

Watch Ugodz-Illa set fire to this shit



[U-God]

As the music gets louder at the top of the hour

It's time to devour, cuz I'm hungry for power

I rise the towers, I'll retire your mans

And it never backfires when I devise a plan

I sprinkle money showers, I'm suppose to think big

All you coward ass niggas don't want me to live

Up the ladder of success, I won't forgive

Ya'll tight ass niggas, ya'll greedy ass pigs, nigga

Last bids, better tie it, the CREAM

I got here, hard work, plus dreams of steam

I'm a mean machine, eat Lean Cuisine

Similar to Steve McQueen on silver screen

I'm suppose to redeem, see my Sprewells twirl

I want a penthouse view, plus windows to the world

And, diamonds and pearls, and hardwood floors

An Italian Job, catch a big money score

At the tip of the iceberg, top of the mountain

Nigga, sky's the limit, when money I'm countin'

I want water and waves sprayin' out my fountain

Nigga, I can it with him, or I can do without him, bitch



[Chorus: all (INF-Black)]

Take it to the top (we ball 'til we fall, let the champagne pop, nigga)

Take it to the top (every hood, every block, know we got this shit locked, 

nigga)

Take it to the top (Uptown niggas, Downtown niggas, get it poppin', baby)

Take it to the top (Niggas get your front on, bitches get your stunt on, come 

on!)



[INF-Black]

It's the silent mover, analyst, sharpshooter

I parachute in your hood, ride off on a scooter

Smookin' buddha with two nines, I'm still rockin' Puma's

Heard it first on grapevine, my rhymes ill manauvers

On jake, we call 'em one time, escape the street crime

Drapped in black hoodies, Timbs and gold shines

Poppin' that champagne, get high like jet lines

Glide and break spines, make ya'll respect mine

I grind from nine to five, rely on the iron nine

INF-Black, I'm doin' fine, so far from hittin' prime

Rippin' right through your flesh, these bitches they wantin' sex

I take you to the top, and cut you off at the neck

Oh you the boss? You ain't a threat

Who cares of what you did, who cares of what you rep

I sidestep ya'll faggots, leave your food in a mess

Got ladies that play it cool and keep the tool in they dress

Ride with me... Hillside, uh



[Chorus]



[King Just]

I've done started at the bottom, I deserve the tippy

Ya'll niggas got some nerve to try to forget me

Man, is he, or isn't he, the greatest who done it?

With sixteen bars that run concurrent

Who wanna serve the warrant? Ya'll ain't got nothin' for him

How you gonna score points, on the after Mike Jordan

Won't happen, stay scrappin', I can see what you lackin'

Hillside, rep Staten, see my wolves, still packin'

I ain't actin', unless they sold out the box office

Or Spike Lee steps to me with better offers

Tune in, play it again, Q, fuck me? Fuck you

That's how I'm supposed to do

We'll go eye for eye, we'll go tooth for tooth

Who the fuck wastes they money to put you in the booth?

You ain't the truth, you more like an L-I-E

Let it be known, I meet you at the T-O-P, nigga



[Letha Face]

Enter the stage, I hell raise

With the force of double barrel 12 gauge

Pump shotgun, dump hot ones

Fireballs flamin' out the mouth, lockin' your lungs

Let me explain what the pain is about

Oscar the Grouch, out the trashcan, Dead Presidents style

Twin pounds in my hands, write my measurements down, clown

I bang in the name of my son, exchange flames til I'm done

The clip's empty and I'm the remainding one

Anger from the Slums, soak up liquor with a sponge liver

Your flow of blood is leakin' worse than a running river

Silver spines worse than Cabin Fever

Play the receiver, of a stabbing meat clever in your abdomen

All that from steppin' on my sneaker

The beat box jam, causes me to murder you with my intellect

Kill for respect, plus work hard for the power

Then I carve Loose Links inside the heart of a coward



[Chorus]