[Intro: C-Tera]
Uh, it's S.I.N.Y., we gon' ride til we die
So get high, muthafucka, uh
And we don't play no games
We take that Mossberg shit, put two in your brain, uh
Yeah... C-Tera

[C-Tera]
All you new niggas is funny
Slick rick chains and little money
Wannabe gangstas, die like Sonny
Wannabe Nino Browns, always snitch in the end
I can see through you phonies, all ya'll do is pretend, dog
Feel like a frog, well, nigga, then leap
Had a forty bring you back to your feet, you winter deep
You boxed in, nigga what the fuck you gon' do now
When the barrel of my tre'pound go round and round
See the light and hear a thunderous sound
My face be the last thing you picture as you fall to the ground
I'm back in the race, you out of it, I'm thorough acknowledging
I only spit hollow tips that's loading the track
Rip through your chest, exploding your back
C-Tera, not afraid to react, Two said what's fucking with that
It's like hypnotic when we mix it with 'Gnac
It turn green, niggas ain't spitting fire, they blowing steam

[Chorus: Shyheim]
It's Napalm, Bottom Up, Bottom Up and Napalm
It's Napalm, Bottom Up, Bottom Up and Napalm
It's Napalm, Bottom Up, Bottom Up and Napalm
It's Napalm, Napalm, Napalm, Bottom Up
Bottom Up and Napalm, Napalm, Bottom Up
Bottom Up and Napalm, Bottom Up and Napalm
Bottom Up and Napalm, Napalm, Bottom Up
Napalm, Napalm, Bottom Up

[Shyheim]
The club is packed and Bottom Up, they yelling
These little nigga with me, do anything I tell 'em
My chain swing and ring blinging, I'm chilling
Dude try and think, and treat him like a verse and kill 'em
Sticks and stones, may, break my bones, but
That four-four long is always on me
Shy don't hesitate I let 'em fly out the gate
Like a Jet Blue plane, straight from JFK
With the airplane landing at LAX
Got on my Bottom Up sweats and my Napalm specs
With two big ass, duffel bags in my hands
I'm on the run, got my whole world in my hands
I smash you cowards, I'll embarass you cowards
I'll protect my net with Big L inside us
Got the hunger of a bum, sleeping on a street corner
I ain't talking bout coins, when I say I need quarters

[Dom Pachino]
I don't wanna talk too much, ya'll can hush it up
Ya'll can put it in my face, I will touch it up
Ya'll soft talking bout they too aggressive for us
The way I spit, ya'll not impressive to us
In God you trust, in the streets, the grain we trust
I show ya'll what this rap shit do mean to us
I'm a grown ass man, ya'll look like teens to us
You bitch niggas
I cock my shit back, ya'll look penises
Don't make me, here, don't make me lean this kid
And walk off, like I never ever seen this kid
You talk shit? Know that I'm key to him
I got power to wipe these niggas off the scene, my friend