Verse One: B Real
 Sipping on tequila  with Sheila  no doubt I'm bringing her on
 Keeping her warm  leaving her heated like Tiger Balm
 In the hot sun city of Mexico  it's a pity
 My committee of witty niggas ain't with me to get gritty
 Rhymey as fuck on the track  snappin your head back
 Get the medic  cause a victim from my nigga Joey Crack
 Stomping the wax  niggas spittin on wax
 Giving the facts, beginners lack the methods of kicking wicked records
 A second of time switch, as styles piles up
 Mountains of various flows to rile up
 Now what you wanna do, nigga? Tequila sunrise, nigga!
 I'm coming to town with my bigger boogie down figga
 It's the live shit, do you think you can survive it?
 When you decide it, leave it to me and Joe can provide it
 Cracking open the golden, holdin the bomb load
 While records are selling singles, my albums are getting sold
 Kicking the universal, never commercial techniques
 Bang in the clubs, bang in the jeeps, bang in the streets

 Chorus:
 Tequila Sunrise, bloodshot eyes
 Realize we're all born to die
 So get the money, nigga!
 (repeat 4x)

 Verse Two: Fat Joe
 Now I'm back for the new year, yeah, I volunteer
 Sources pioneer, millionaire status here
 I never had no fear sellin records
 I resurrected on my third, that's my word, it's a high selection
 And everybody know standing near me,
 I'm dangerous like Shannon Greary
 Making the whole planet hear me
 You feel me? I'm on my road to the riches
 With hoes and bitches fulfilling my goals and my wishes
 My flows is vicious, but showin' niggas since the early 90's
 Where Onyx at? Niggas rockin' both easy 'round a grammy
 Don't mind me, I just call 'em how I see 'em
 Most these rappers is actors living off per diem
 Me? I'm on my own shit, nothing but gold hits
 Claimin the throne with my thuggish ruggish Bone clique
 On the phone-flip, talking to B
 He scooped me up in the six, we 'bout to hit overseas, what!

 Chorus

 Outro
 (each overlapping the other)

 B-Real:
 That's right, we hitting you with the L.A./Bronx connection
 Soul Assassins, Terror Squad family
 All up in your dome... ha!
 That's right, Soul Assassins style, Cypress Hill IV
 Knocking on your door for the ninety-eight
 That's right, eat the worm, motherfucker

 Fat Joe:
 Yeah... Terror Squad, Soul Assassins
 B-Real, Joey Crack... wha-wha-wha-what!
 Ugh! Puttin' it down, nigga!
 East coast, West coast
 And it's all the same, hahahaha... yeah, yeah