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Some of that 151 Son (yeah some of that bogus) |
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("What you got in the trunk?") |
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Aight, aiyyo Son, yo yo |
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You think that motherfuckin nigga's out there right now Son? |
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(Word, what he doin out here?) |
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Son we got drama with that nigga |
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Be tryin to fuckin front last week |
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(What, that kid out there? Yo, I seen that nigga earlier knahmsayin?) |
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Nah fuck that, go, go open the window real quick Son |
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Open that fuckin window |
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(You gonna take him from the window nigga?) |
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Yo hold up |
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That, there go, that's that nigga right there Son? |
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Right next to the basketball court? |
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(Yeah yeah, that's the one) |
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Oh shit! C'mere c'mere c'mere c'mere, turn the lights out |
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(I got somethin too Son, that's how we do) |
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Turn the lights out, c'mon through |
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*sounds of clips and an automatic being cocked* |
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(Back up, back up, they lookin) |
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Aiyyo Son, I'ma hit that nigga right now Son |
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Word to mom I'ma hit him out the window Son |
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*Twilight Zone in the background* |
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(Yo you BUGGIN Son!) |
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Heh nhah chill 'Zo, fuck that |
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I'ma hit that nigga right out the motherfuckin window |
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(Ga head Son, go head man!) |
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Hold up (You want somebody go bust him!) |
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Nah fuck that I'ma hit this nigga out the window Son |
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(Ga head man!) |
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Shit shit shit don't blow it up, duck down |
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(Yo let me do it man, let me do it, go head) |
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*two shots, eighteen shots, seven shots* |
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Yeah yeah yeah, yeah nigga, yeah! |
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Yeah! (gimme gimme gimme gimme) |
|
*two shots* |
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Fucker! (What?) |
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Chorus: Mobb Deep |
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(Yo it's the) G.O.D., Father Pt. III |
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QBC, sip lime Bacardia |
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Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring |
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Drama we bring, yeah/yo that's a small thing |
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(repeat 2X) |
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Verse One: Prodigy |
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Awright now, pay attention to the crime rhyme Houdini P |
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Keepin you niggaz in perspective |
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Mobb, representative, call me the specialist |
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Professional, professor at this rap science |
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Up in the labratory, here's why your small rhyme bore me |
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Store bought rap ain't shit, my category |
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is that of an insane who strike back (what?) |
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I draw first blood, it's over with, and that's that |
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You wanna square off, forsake and slice that cat |
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You get splashed, from back of your head, to ass crack |
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Surgical signs to the end, with iron map |
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Which bring, apocalypse to this game called rap |
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Not a game but quite serious and yo in fact |
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You'll be runnin for dear life so far you might fall off the map |
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Fuckin with P, you need a gat |
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At least to have the opportunity to bust back |
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First shot the motherfucker pack around world premier |
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Shook individual bound from blind fear |
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Scared to death niggaz fall to they worst fear |
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My retail's in braille, for vision impaired |
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You lookin for P, well you can find him everywhere |
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In a project near you, I'll be right there |
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I was brought up and taught to have no fear (now) |
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Live wire niggaz stay behind me in the rear (now) |
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Cowardly hearts, step aside, stand clear (fear) |
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My bloodthirsty niggaz got they eyes on you |
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QBC, lime Bacardia, G.O.D. Father Pt. III |
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On some hashish, to Embassy Suite, crash your party |
|
Chorus: repeat 2X |
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Verse Two: Havoc |
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Yeah yo, lime Bacardi, gettin bent, crash the party |
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Handle B-I, bringin it to anybody |
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Physical damage, crowd control handle cannons |
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Hittin you ripped, leave your bloodstream contamin-ed |
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While you actin out of character, we observin |
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Drillin em down so hard, I know we felt you comin at em |
|
Hennessee raps float like the Phantom |
|
Runnin you up out of the spot in which you standin |
|
Never second-guess a cat who hold gat |
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Concealed, but easily revealed and fast |
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Body castin raps to get your back snapped in half |
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and severed, impossible pain beyond measure |
|
Sheisty living brought him to his last bread (bread) |
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Life changed around quick to one stead (stead) |
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Face full of fear, conquerin your ice grill (grill) |
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Tragedies, put him to sleep like NyQuil (NyQuil) |
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Givin a overdose of this rap potent |
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Potentially dangerous, fatally left open |
|
for the roaches, scavengers, that's EMS |
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Funeral homes, anticipatin your death |
|
That's the dead truth, check in the morgue, you'll find proof |
|
Enough to make you think and stop before your ship sink |
|
to the bottom, night owl leave the mark and spot him |
|
You know the routine, face up before I shot him |
|
Chorus: repeat 4X |
