[Intro: Fat Joe]
  Ollie ollie oxen free!
  Like one, two, three
  Red light, green light, one, two, three
  Yo I pop six boxes, play some scalezes
  Pitch the ball I'ma smack that shit
  Yeah, ohhhhhh, going.. going
  Yeah yeah what up son?
  Yo I got this twenty two nigga play me like..
  Nah, I ain't got no bullets
  Yeah yeah yeah yeah
  Top two for five, three for five, we rollin!
  
  [Fat Joe]
  Now I'm in too deep
  Only sixteen already hold a name in the street
  Makin the fifth scream, rockin older niggas to sleep
  Make a fiend strip naked cuz he owed for a week
  Now the Squad's getting recognized, supplyin connects with pies
  Pumpin pounds of weight, nigga like exercise
  Joe been over quarter five dope and homicide
  Long before Charlie got knocked, until Madonna died
  Young and not givin a fuck
  There ain't a nigga I ain't hit when I buck and left 'em shit outta luck
  I'ma gangsta like my daddy was, hittin number spots
  Sendin me to my room while he was puffin pot
  Still I use to peak from the door, couldn't believe what I saw
  Stacks of money on the bed and the floor
  It wasn't long til I did what he did
  I was an innocent kid and got exposed to the life that he lived
  I went from grams into O's, pounds to bricks
  On the strip pimpin hoes on some goldie shit
  I'ma gangsta by destiny, OG's selected me
  I earned my spot, my whole team elected me
  
  [Chorus: children singing]
  Gangsta, gangsta
  I wanna be a gangsta
  My daddy was a gangsta
  Gangsta, gangsta
  I wanna be a gangsta
  My daddy was a gangsta
  
  [Fat Joe]
  Yeah, unh, yo, unh
  Here goes this chick doing ten in the bing
  But 'less we rhyme time we see her do it again
  She started out fuckin dudes that resembled her father
  Mom knew shoulda schooled her but the bitch didn't bother
  You couldn't blame her cuz she got it from her
  She was a rider from jump, her pop's died in the hands of a chump
  Now she's mad at the world, no more daddy's little girl
  Now she's rockin bandanas, no more Shirley Temple girl
  Now she be runnin wit some scramblers that be down in Alabama
  Packin twin hammers, screamin "Life doesn't matter"
  It's a vicious cycle, her game is pretending to like you
  Thinkin you getting head but she's just duckin so they can snipe you
  Movin from state to state, runnin everything from guns to trains
  and pushing packs from eight to eight
  You know I can't say her name but she was a looker
  Pretty thing, such a shame how this life has took her
  Now she's raising hell in the cell, no more his are hollering
  You might suffer the same fate if you repeat the following..
  Sell drugs, use drugs, get caught up in the mix
  End up locked up or dead in a casket, that's it
  
  [Chorus]