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Mobb Deep
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1
(feat. Tony Yayo)
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[Havoc]
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We get that paper baby boy, it's easy
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You want to be who? You can't be me
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Shorty gave me that ass on GP
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Rollin' in a G-500, or the Porsche, roof open
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And I know that you're hopin' that I fall real soon
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But I ain't goin' nowhere, hate to bust your balloon
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And there ain't that much room for all us
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Limited space, the game like a tour bus
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I won't break, I just take, take and take
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Rape and rape, the game til there's no more cake
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Snitch ass niggaz givin' up identities
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Ain't my fault theymakin' pennies
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They soft like ice cream, sweeter than Ben & Jerry's
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Like hoffa, leavin' nowhere to be found but buried
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The gun won't fail me, the money won't leave me
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Stop schemin' on me baby, it ain't that easy
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Niggaz leave prints cause their palms so greasy
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Their mind read easy, I see right through 'em
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The AK'll do em, like nobody do 'em
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Stop, it's best that you keep it movin', you'll get shot
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[Hook: Havoc - 2X]
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We ain't lickin' niggaz, we ain't bustin' shots in the air
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No warnin' shots, the fuck out of here
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Oh man homey, hate to do you like this
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Oh man homey, when the tooley go click, click, click
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[Tony Yayo]
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It's the young high-roller, the talk of New York
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David got my neck lookin' like a lightning ball
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I'm in that two-door Range Stormer
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My truck plush, and the wheels are the size of rims on a school bus
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I need that Bill Gates money, that's fifty-one billion
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Six hundred ki's, that's fifty-one million
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Me and 50 in Hollywood, with Quincy Jones
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Since the Feds bought Nextel, I trashed my phone
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Listen homes, everything glisten homes
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Yeah my gun and my rims both sit on chrome
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You move way by the car, I move way by the carload
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I drive ta Marcy in a Murcielago
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My connect is a Cuban named Flaco
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With my aim, you a human taco
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Meetin' shells, yo the feds tryin' to peep our sales
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My daughter grow up, she in Harvard and Yale, yeah
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[Hook: Havoc - 2X]
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[Prodigy]
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You see me rollin', Mack-10 showin' out the window
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When you catchin' me shootin' out the coup, then switch your lane
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You don't want me creepin' two miles an hour, with my seat low
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Cause I'll hop up out the sun-roof with fully-autos and embed it in your brain
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It's like fee, fie, foe, fum, I smell the blood of a jealous ass punk
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One, two, three hundred shots
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Fittin' to ring off them things off, and cook the block
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Old people, the pets and the kids
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Whoever in the way, them strays gon' hit
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And we don't give a fuck about the police nigga
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This ain't Manhattan, this Queens nigga
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We're immune to the violence, it's nothin' to me
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Fuck 'em - they don't give a fuck about P
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If they could kill me, believe me, they would
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That's why I set it off, and I get 'em real good
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When them street, lights, come on nigga
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You best, have, your gun on nigga
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Cause tonight we ride (Growl) and you die (Growl)
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As soon as I walk up, or drive-by
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[Hook: Havoc - 2X]
Mobb Deep - Shook Ones, Pt. II (Official...
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