[Chuck D:] One two three four five six seven eight nine
It’s the ten crack commandments what Nigga can’t tell me nothing about this coke Can’t tell me nothing about this crack, this weed To my hustling niggas Niggas on the corner I ain’t forget you niggas My triple beam niggas, word up
[Chuck D:] One two three four five six seven eight nine
Ten
I been in this game for years, it made me a animal There’s rules to this shit, I wrote me a manual A step-by-step booklet for you to get Your game on track, not your wig pushed back
Rule number uno: never let no one know How much dough you hold, ‘Cause you know The cheddar breed jealousy especially If that man fucked up Get your ass stuck up
Number two: Never let ’em know your next move Don’t you know Bad Boys move in silence and violence Take it from your highness I done squeezed mad clips at these cats for they bricks and chips
Number three: Never trust nobody Your moms’ll set that ass up, properly gassed up Hoodied and masked up Shit, for that fast buck She be laying in the bushes to light that ass up
Number four: Know you heard this before Never get high on your own supply
Number five: Never sell no crack where you rest at I don’t care if they want a ounce, Tell ’em “Bounce”
Number six: That goddamn credit, dead it You think a crackhead paying you back, shit forget it
Seven: this rule is so underrated Keep your family and business completely separated Money and blood don’t mix Like two dicks And no bitch Find yourself in serious shit
Number eight: Never keep no weight on you Them cats that squeeze your guns can hold jums too
Number nine shoulda been number one to me If you ain’t getting bagged stay the fuck from police If niggas think you snitching they ain’t tryna listen They be sitting in your kitchen, waiting to start hitting
Number ten: A strong word called “consignment” Strictly for live men, Not for freshmen If you ain’t got the clientèle say “Hell no!” ‘Cause they gon’ want they money rain sleet hail snow
Follow these rules you’ll have mad bread to break up If not, twenty-four years, on the wake up Slug hit your temple, watch your frame shake up Caretaker did your makeup, When you passed Your girl fucked my man Jake up, Heard in three weeks she sniffed a whole half of cake up Heard she suck a good dick, and can hook a steak up Gotta go gotta go, more pies to bake up, word up
Crack king, Frank Wiz-zhite
[Chuck D:] One two three four five six seven eight nine