don't matter where ya from Don't matter where ya run Verse 1: Flesh breakin' 'em down, hittin' 'em up, outta line, with yo' innocent, gotta get to start
straight out of The Brick City (Brick City) For my nigga, Guts We was thinkin' about you on this one, Guts Hold your head up, baby We got you on this one
, The undisputed truth is that the black man is God, Now everytime I turn around my people start subtractin', They cause this shit then they wonder why we start
, my circle don't fit in with squares I smell shit and piss, know where it's coming from You stepped on number two just to be number one Now I'ma step
, people's addiction to lies It blurs the lines between the fact and fiction Now we back omission, I fix your face for you, keep yappin You start to
pretend I touch a million, throwing hundreds in this bitch [Verse 7 - Birdman] Real nigga number one, hustle fly with my son Come from uptown, G5, Tommy gun
the club The one that let him grab her ass when they twisted the dub Or perhaps it was the dime from the guest list line Either one and several others
living on the run because i'm Public Enemy number one Chorus (singing with beat scratching in the background) one, one, one one, one, one, one one, one, one
Fin to get you some of this redrum, find nowhere to hide Well, even though you tried, they got your body numb Done, done, done, 'till it be one nine
John McClain now Snake vs the crane style death to the enemy Wu brother number one the centipede Trouble some, send 'em all to kingdom come Sun still shine one
intent To kill your whole regiment it's real Startin' wit yo president, duckin' my dart gun Tear apart son you don't want it then don't start none Blaze one
Aiyyo, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven Blaze the hot trizack that sound like heaven Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one My mon methtical come
ya We battle one time, you're dead, no sequel (Your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal) -- Q-Tip You know we're number one Competition is none
and sometimes fire With no more then a blow gun I made from an exhausted pen I shot the stars out of the sky When each one fell sparkling to the ground
Sarah Palin be the only cougar I put a gun to What type of spell am I under? You want a beef? Take a number I wonder why these younger rappers wont acknowledge
followin' we start to swallowin' the evidentials Keep supplier's name confidential Crooked cops started buckin' at us Made a turn to a dead end, but froze 'cause the cops had us I grab the Tec and started
ODing and bullets [Baby] All i know is gun slanging and head banging Too many disrespected And lived to sang it Drop change like a motherfucker Fuck them niggas If a nigga outta line
the block start to get numb They expect it its fresh when the new sh-t come It grows, let 'em know they can fix around Railroad, rap hot tracks one and