| Can I kick it? | 
| Well ah, yes you can | 
| Can I kick a hole in the speaker and then jet? | 
| Well, of course, you can! | 
| First Serve’s the best yet | 
| Can I kick a hole in the speaker and then jet? | 
| My nigga yes you can, First Serve’s the best kept! | 
| I play the intro, middle, ending back to the intro | 
| Reborn to bring NEW beginnings | 
| How many lives, have you ran through? | 
| I think I’m on number five, came back strivin | 
| For the same thing, the GAME thing | 
| Microphone remain king, yeah my need | 
| They say it’s in the blood, and in my thoughts as well | 
| Since the days of the, ways of the walk | 
| Through the park in the BX, me and D got next | 
| Verbal push-ups, titles, concepts, beats | 
| Yo D, it’s time to eat! | 
| And with this gravy | 
| Make fritters out of these tater sacks, you quarterbacks | 
| Ought to back it up two yards, we bought it back | 
| That old chord mic’s the prototype | 
| Connect it like Siamese deep in the work | 
| Sweat a Hi-C packet a day, now sip on that | 
| (Let me be) At the front of the line | 
| (It was plain to see) Cause it’s our time | 
| (It's over now) in bright lights surrounded by skirts | 
| (You had me found, you shot me down) | 
| Pop Life & Deen Whitter, we puttin' in work! | 
| Work! | 
| Work! | 
| (Work!) Work! | 
| (Work!) Work! | 
| (Work!) | 
| Work! | 
| Work! | 
| (Work!) Work! | 
| (Work!) Work! | 
| (Work!) | 
| Work! | 
| (Yeah!) Work (Yeah!) Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) | 
| Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) Work (Yeah!!) Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) | 
| WORK WORK WORK! | 
| Can’t a monkey stop us in this bar game | 
| The guitar lickin' the far lane | 
| Yo, I got crazy visions! | 
| (Nigga, put 'em on paper!) | 
| The contracts, contacts puffin haze per page | 
| An Almanac of ideas for five years | 
| Book stick it in that «I so solemnly swear» joint | 
| Economy scare point (Yo, studio costs is for horses!) | 
| Nigga we can play the mule and get Pro Tools | 
| And show fools the A-game, set up in the crib and live | 
| Word! | 
| Man, but yo | 
| I’m on that song ass first, I’m on the last verse | 
| Finish line 24 but I got 20 more things I gotta do | 
| Like, make the name up for the crew | 
| Might call it Witter Pop! | 
| (Naw, nigga that’s wack) | 
| Yeah you right, yo did you find a studio? | 
| (Yeah I came across two you know the one Ken-doo talk about? | 
| The other one’s called Odyssey) | 
| Oh yeah yeah, let’s take it there man | 
| I heard it’s more private, B | 
| (Let me be) At the front of the line | 
| (It was plain to see) Cause it’s our time | 
| (It's over now) in bright lights surrounded by skirts | 
| (You had me found, you shot me down) | 
| Pop Life & Deen Whitter, we puttin' in work! | 
| Work! | 
| Work! | 
| (Work!) Work! | 
| (Work!) Work! | 
| (Work!) | 
| Work! | 
| Work! | 
| (Work!) Work! | 
| (Work!) Work! | 
| (Work!) | 
| Work! | 
| (Yeah!) Work (Yeah!) Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) | 
| Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) Work (Yeah!!) Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) | 
| WORK WORK WORK! | 
| Aiyyo, we spent many years | 
| Brushin' the plaque off the teeth | 
| It’s time to switch gears | 
| And place the plaques underneath the roof | 
| The gold ones | 
| Was platinum plus much better | 
| The right contract bring the right con-cheddar | 
| And we ain’t cons | 
| So just like Etta (At Last) | 
| We have to blast through, anybody ask you | 
| Who works harder? | 
| You say First Serve | 
| Try to say different, say you got some nerve! | 
| See you got some herbs that gon' hate | 
| The Band-Aid is for dem boys! | 
| Nikita La Femme boys! | 
| The key to the city is ours | 
| The broads, the house, the cars | 
| The sky’s the limit, the stars | 
| Shalamars in it, there it is! | 
| But what took you so long? | 
| The energy’s a tall glass of milk, the secret’s best kept | 
| In the basement, potential amazement | 
| Until we hit the surface of the pavement, PEACE! | 
| (Let me be) At the front of the line | 
| (It was plain to see) Cause it’s our time | 
| (It's over now) in bright lights surrounded by skirts | 
| (You had me found, you shot me down) | 
| Pop Life & Deen Whitter, we puttin' in work! | 
| Work! | 
| Work! | 
| (Work!) Work! | 
| (Work!) Work! | 
| (Work!) | 
| Work! | 
| Work! | 
| (Work!) Work! | 
| (Work!) Work! | 
| (Work!) | 
| Work! | 
| (Yeah!) Work (Yeah!) Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) | 
| Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) Work (Yeah!!) Work! | 
| (Yeah!!) | 
| WORK WORK WORK! | 
| We got the work alright | 
| Ken-Doo put a plan together, got us organized | 
| Studio time, little shows here and there, AND means! | 
| But, things weren’t happenin overnight now. | 
| Shit, days became weeks, weeks into months | 
| And months? | 
| Months turned into doubt |