(Feat. Notorious B.I.G., 50 Cent, Busta Rhymes, Lloyd Banks)

                    Yo the sun don't shine forever but as long as its here we minus well shine togeher



                      Better now than never business before pleasure 



                      P-Diddy and the Fam, who you know do it better? 



                      Yeah right, no matter what, we air tight 



                      So when you hear somethin, make sure you hear it right 



                      Don't make a ass outta yourself, by assumin 



                      Our music keeps you movin, what are you provin? 



                      You know that I'm two levels above you baby



                      Hug me baby, I'ma make you love me baby 



                    It's ten years and we still runnin this motherfucker

                    [P. Diddy]



                      Yeah!

                    [B.I.G.]



                      One

                    [P. Diddy]



                      As we procede to give you what you need!

                    [B.I.G.]



                      One...Two!

                    [P. Diddy]



                      It's all fucked up now!

                    [50 Cent]



                      Yo!

                    [P. Diddy]



                      What the fuck yaw gonna do now?

                    [50 Cent]



                      Yo, we can't stay alive forever 



                      So if shit hit the fan then we might as well die together 



                      I'm high as ever, more holes and more cheddar 



                      G-Unit move around wit them pounds and berreta's 



                      Yea faggot, if I want it I'm gon' have it 



                      Regardless if it's handed to me or I gotta grab it 



                      Don't make a ass outta yaself tryin to stop me 



                      I'm cocky, raps rocky, nigga you sloppy 



                      You know that I'm, 8 levels above you nigga 



                      I'll club you nigga, I never heard of you nigga, ugly nigga 



                      I'm the wrong one to provoke 



                      You rattin on niggas is only gon' leave you smoke 



                      So the only thing left now is tools for these cowrads 



                      I got no friends, fuck most of these cowards 



                      They pop shit 'till we start approaching these cowards 



                      While we lay around dollars, they lay around flowers 

                    [B.I.G.]



                      In The Commision, you ask for permission to hit em



                      He don't like me, him and wild wifey was wit em



                      You heard of us, the murderers, most shady



                      Been on the low lately, the feds hate me



                      The son of *Satan*, they say my killin's too blatant



                      You hesitatin, I'm in your mama crib waitin



                      Duct tapin, your fam destiny



                      Lays in my hands, gat lays in my waist



                      Francis, M to the iz-H phenominal



                      Gun rest under your vest by the abdominal



                      Rhyme a few bars so I can buy a few cars



                      And I kick a few flows so I can pimp a few hoes



                      Excellence is my presence, never tense



                      Never hesitant, leave a nigga bent real quick



                      Real sick, brawl nights, I perform like Mike



                      Anyone -- Tyson, Jordan, Jackson



                      Action, pack guns, ridiculous



                      And I'm, quick to bust, if my ends you touch



                      Kids or girl you touch, in this world I clutch



                      Two auto-matoes, used to call me fatso



                      Now you call me Castro, my rap flows



                      Militant, y'all faggots ain't killin shit



                      Ooops Cristal keep spillin shit, you overdid it homes



                      You in the danger zone, you shouldn't be alone



                      Hold hands and say it like me



                      The most shady, Frankie baby, fantastic



                      Graphic, tryin to make dough, like Jurassic



                      Park did quick to spark kids who start shit



                      See me, only me



                      The Underboss of this holocaust



                      Truly yours, Frank White

                    [Chorus: Busta Rhymes]

                    We got the real live shit from front to back



                      To my people in the world, where the hell you at?



                      Where my soldiers is at? [2X]



                      Where my real live my soldiers?



                      Where my soldiers is at?

                    [P. Diddy]



                      Come on it stay dark for long 



                      They say its darkest before the dawn



                      Cars before the storm



                      I'm happy makes a bethus now preaching the song



                      I can see B.I. rocking the Sean John yeah right



                      This is for life afters like B.I. Frank White



                      Yo Bad Boy for life



                      No matter what the public say we gon prove



                      There aint another rapper who could feel ya shoes



                      Cuz Biggie Smalls is the illest



                      Realest my stones and killas got homes and villas



                      Overseas and what was me 



                      Who found out other MCs been tryin to find ya route 



                      This illman MC used to be on other shit



                      Took home "Life after Death" and then studied it



                      Listened to the double disk



                      Now they all spit 



                      Frank tell how we did!

                    [B.I.G.]



                      We got the shit, Mac tight, brass knuckles and flashlights 



                      The heaers in the two-seaters, with two midas 



                      Senoritas, kiss rings when you meet us 



                      P-Diddy run the city, show no pity 



                      I'm the witty one, Frank's the crook from the Brook' 



                      Matty broke the neck of your coke connect 



                      No respect squeeze off til all y'all diminish 



                      Shootouts for twenty minutes, until we finish 



                      Venice took the loot, escaped, in the Coupe 



                      Break bread, with the kiss, Peniro, sheek loops 



                      Black Rob joined the mob, it ain't no replacin him 



                      Niggaz step up, we just macin them 



                      Placin them in funerals, criminals turned aroused 



                      The Brick City, nobody come off like P-Diddy 



                      Business rise, I play men 



                      Hide money on the Island Cayman, y'all just betray men 



                      You screamin, I position, competition 



                      Nother day in the life of the Comission 

                    [Lloyd Banks] 



                      I got a intergangstress who argue and steams wit reefer 



                      And who flip when I call a bitch like she Queen Latifah 



                      Not all the vehicle's is long enough to stash the streetsweeper 



                      This shit can get uglier than the Master P sneaker 



                      We slidin through the ruckus, wit prada on the chuckus 



                      Soon as spring break ho's home from college wanna fuck us 



                      I ain't here to drop knowledge on you suckas 



                      I'll sick rottweiler's on you fuckas, cops followin to cuff us 



                      Top dollars to discuss this, whole lotta zeros 



                      When it comes to paper I blow a soul outta aero 



                      I'ma break before I lay floor berry 



                      Besides, every rapper ain't a star, nigga plad ain't burberry 



                      You can't tame Lloyd, smokin by the big screen 



                      You changin the channel looks like I'm playin the game boy 



                      I know to watch botherin ya vision 



                      You reach and I'll put a dot on ya head like its part of yo religion 



                      Why party wit a pigeon? 



                      I'm blowin a 10 cuz Bush handin flyers for a party in a prison 



                      I'm in the gucci vest wit the green and red straps 



                      I'm the last rapper to scare niggas since Craig Mack 



                      Now every morning's a fast start 



                      And there aint problem gettin dressed cuz my closet got more aisles than pathmark 



                      Run, move startin a wave 



                      And leave wit 12 shells in ya mouth like a carton of eggs 



                      I'm the young pimp pardon my age 



                      I don't got long hair but if I did she be puttin my braids 



                      Niggas find what club they at 



                      Take 'em wit us, and run a train on 'em like a subway mac 



                      Get advances from grey Acura 



                      See these record labels got most artists gettin fucked like the gay rappa' 



                      I go the college on the tour 



                      I'm goin down in history nigga, next to Wallace and Shakur 



                      I keep ya ammo clean, text polished in the drawer 



                      Camera's by the hamper that mine into the floor 



                      By now, you probably heard of me 



                      Fresh outta surgery, flashy as a fuck, you gon' have to murder me 



                      Burglary, I'm leavin wit cha nike's bergendy, White T, bergendy 



                      You match now, back down 



                      Niggas love to hate you, but love you when you disappear 



                      Catch me on the boat wit weed smoke and official gear 



                      Heavy when I toke, C notes from different years 



                      Besly in the robe, re-motes for liftin chairs 



                      You ain't rich, but we glad to snatch ya 



                      I send cars to crib like I'm a cab dispatcha 



                      You better off wit ya stupid guys, lookin for a coupe to drive 



                      You ain't gettin nuttin but ya french fries supersized 



                      It's a damn shame y'all still local 



                      I'm in a million dollar studio layin my vocals 



                      Nigga 

                    [Chorus (x3): Busta Rhymes]

                    We got the real live shit from front to back



                      To my people in the world, where the hell you at?



                      Where my soldiers is at? [2X]



                      Where my real live my soldiers?



                      Where my soldiers is at? 

                    [Busta Rhymes]



                      Whe got the real live shit!

                    What yaw niggas wanna do?