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G.O.D. Pt. III
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Mobb Deep
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1
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)
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*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
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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
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Hennessee raps float like the Phantom
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Runnin you up out of the spot in which you standin
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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
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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
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for the roaches, scavengers, that's EMS
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Funeral homes, anticipatin your death
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That's the dead truth, check in the morgue, you'll find proof
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Enough to make you think and stop before your ship sink
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to the bottom, night owl leave the mark and spot him
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You know the routine, face up before I shot him
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Chorus: repeat 4X
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