[Intro: Dom Pachino]
Napalm... fucking hear it?
Some good music, man, good music
Live instrumentation..
You heard? Chapizzy, what the fuck, baby?
Yo... bout to do this, yo
[Dom Pachino]
Why don't you be original, just switch your style up
I move like DSL, you still on dial-up
I tucked you in your folder, don't make me pull your foul 
up
Staten Island, nigga, these niggas the wildest
Making sure, pardon up like a calyst, man, it's music on 
copping yo palace
For a mansion in the Hamptons, my eyes red, and I keep a 
box like Stanfred
My sons got guns, man, them shits is gigantic
Matter fact, I got some shit, niggas in the Atlantic
But I'd rather, kill 'em in they pockets, where it'll 
really hurt 'em
Man, look it, and see how I'm learning, they see how I'm 
earning
Now they all concerned, man, now they wanna sign me? I 
think that they are grimey
I did it all myself with some help from my grimeys
Sold units out the ass like there's labels behind me
Slide in the scene, I think it's all timing
Ninety percent business, and ten percent rhyming
Napalm, Napalm...