This is world-famous Bruce and me straight from uptown Harlem, New York City.Big shout-out to Jay Sins, Mr. LP, Cansflow, Buddha Shelter.I'm on the ground with the kings in digital.Dr. Octagon, my old beatdown's critical.Doom pedal fast, busting the opps wearing their metal masks.KM, DMX have bulldogs in middle's lab.One of the most like Compton in the game.The aftermath is shady, we living in chains.Two, live my crew, clan poison with the Wu Kong Fu.Lost move, we got nothing to prove.I'm like Seagull on the freeway, dashing with Dane.Be property of the states, feds asking my name.That's a nightmare, like day in the day, and I'm crashing with Jane.Keep a low profile, so sass is a sprain.Plug one, plug two, plug three, nice and smooth.Got a little cam, plus the audio too, hard to attain.Them boys lost major figures, keep it black.Smith and West, the buck shots, and my savior, niggas, listen.Big shout-out to Duck Down, Wu Kang, Cliff.This is world-famous Bruce and me.Brooklyn, Brownsville, Bestar.World-famous, we still celebrating 50 years of hip-hop.Ha-ha.I know you feel me.Yeah.It's flavor on top of flavor on top of more flavor.Come on.My mentality's one for all.Fear of a black planet, guns for all.Police say we all want it dead or alive.Business as usual, can we survive?Seems like we banned in the USA.Gotta get a grip now, ooh, let's play.Step in the arena at your own risk.I'm a smooth assassin, bet you I won't miss.Righteous but ruthless, kill at will.When I get my fill, I'm chilly chill.This is not just a fad, ain't no shame in my game.Let the rhythm hit them, tell the world my name.Mama said, take you to hell and back.While these young ghetto boys sell at crack.Living like hustlers, that ain't legal.Take a look around, see, we all regal, yeah.Shout-out to the Juice Crew, Mr. Magic, Raps and Beezle.Paulie Marvel, Frank G, MC Shane, Rock B and Sean J.Trapzzy, Krucci, Rap.Big Daddy King, Vince Monk, he best in peace.This the world famous Krucci B.Giving you flavor, ha-ha.Mixing up the hip-hop.I like the way this one is going down.Sound like some real crack.Jay Sam, I got you, ha-ha.It's like some throwback *, huh?Watch this.I got it lit, turn the lights off.I'm from a tribe called Quest, shout to Phife Dawg.I'm tough too, tough crew, shout to Ice Dawg.Mack Daddy, Black Caddy with the white walls.Three times dope, bunch of energy.Mighty soul of mischief, real public enemy.Nigga with a attitude, when you bump an enemy.My mash-out posse'll give a couple different injuries.Check my direction.Wanna see a guard? Nigga, check my reflection.I hope you more upbeat when you steppin' in my section.Got a Mack 10 that's colder than Ice Cube for my Westside connection.Every ball absolutely fly.I'm bumpin' De La Soul, puffin' Fuji Lassie.I grew up on Brand Newbie and then Cooley High.Dead rapper that say my name, if he do, he die.I'm deeply rooted in my black thoughts.Lord of the underground, ain't no back talk.Word of rock, you get rocked. Nigga, back off.40 eat a nigga face like it's on bath salts.It's pain.This the world famous BCB.It's the album.Cans, flute, Buddha and Shelter.Y'all already know what it is.This what we doin', it's classic.Ha-ha.Big shots uptown, downtown, in town, out of town.Come on.BCB.Brooklyn.Bronx, Harlem.Queens, New Jersey.Long Island's nothin' now.50 years of hip-hop.Ha-ha.This the world famous BCB.I grew up on Brand Newbie and then Cooley High.40 eat a nigga face like it's on bath salts.It's pain.50 years of hip-hop.Queens, Harlem.Queens, Harlem.Queens, Harlem.Queens, Harlem.Queens, Harlem.