I ain't got no friends That's why I yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker (take money) side!! Bad Boy (take money) You know who the realest is (take money) We it to you (take money)
First off, fuck your and the click you claim Westside when we ride come equipped with You claim to be a player but I your wife We bust on Bad Boy niggaz for life Plus Puffy ta see me weak hearts I rip Biggie and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark-ass bitches We keep on comin we runnin for yo' jewels Steady gunnin, keep on bustin at them fools, you know the Lil' Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I ya Cut young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased Lil' Kim, don't fuck around with G's Quick to snatch yo' ass off the streets, so fuck peace I let them niggaz know on for life So let the ride tonight - hahahah Bad Boy murdered on wax and Fuck wit' me and get yo' caps peeled, you ... see ...
Grab ya glocks, you see Tupac Call the cops, you see Tupac, uhh Who shot me, but ya punks finish Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a NIGGA, I hit em' up...
Check this out, you motherfuckers know time it is I even know why I'm on this track Y'all niggaz even on my level I'ma let my little homies on you bitch made-ass bad boy bitches -- with it!!
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo Biggie just got dropped Little Moo, the mac, and let me hit him in his back Frank White need to get spanked right, for traps Little accident murderers, and I ain't never ya Poisinous gats when I'm servin ya Spank ya shank ya whole style when I Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam your ass in the Puffy weaker than the block I'm runnin through nigga And I'm Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you nigga the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauer Ya clout petty sour, I get packages hour to hit 'em up
ya glocks, when you see Tupac Call the cops, you see Tupac, uhh Who me, but ya punks didn't finish Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a NIGGA, I hit em' up...
how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel this ain't no battle, all you niggaz gettin killed ya mouths open Tryin to up offa me, you in the clouds hopin Smokin dope like a sherm high niggaz think they learned to fly But burn motherfucker, you deserve to die Talkin bout you gettin money but it's to me All you niggaz livin why you fuckin with me? I'm a self millionare Thug out a prison, pistols in the air, haha Biggie, remember when I used to let you on the couch and beg a bitch to let you in the house, hah Now its all Versacci, you copied my style shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled Now I'm to set the record straight, with my AK I'm still the thug you love to hate Motherfucker, I hit 'em up
I'm from Jerz, where plenty murders occurs No points in common, we drama to all you herbs check the scenario, Lil' Cease I you fake G's to your knees, coppin pleas you Degenario Lil Kim, is you coked up, or up? Get ya lil' Jr. Whopper smoked up, what the fuck is you STUPID?! I take money, crash and through Brooklyn with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya with 15 shots glock to your knot mafia click movin up another notch And your box top get mopped and dropped and all your fake-ass East props brainstormed and locked
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style I'll tell you to ya face you ain't shit but a than Alize with a chaser Bout to get for the paper Edi Amin the scene of the caper, like a loc With Lil' Ceaser in a choke, huh smoke We ain't no motherfuckin joke Thug Life better be knowin We approchin, in the wide open, guns No need for hopin it's a lost, I got 'em crossed As soon as the was poppin off, nigga I hit 'em up
Now you me who won? I see them, they run Hehehehe, don't wanna see us Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up to be us How the they gon' be the mob when we always on our job We millionaires, killin ain't fair but gotta do it Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, you fuck with us? You little young-ass Don't one of you got sickle cell or somethin? You fuckin me nigga you fuck around and have a or a heart-attack You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get the fuck up how we do it on our side Any of you niggaz from New York wanna bring it bring it But we ain't singin, we drama Fuck you and your mama We kill all you motherfuckers Now when I came out I you it was just about Biggie Then everybody had to open mouth with a motherfuckin opinion Well this how we do this Mobb Deep, Fuck Biggie, Fuck Bad Boy as a staff record label and as a crew And if you be down with Bad Boy; then fuck you too Chino XL, you too All you motherfuckers, you too
(take money) (take money) Alla y'all motherfuckers, fuck you die slow My fo'-fo' sure all y'all kids don't grow You can't be us or see us We the motherfuckin Thug ridahs Westside till we die! Out here in California nigga we ya BOMB on you motherfuckers, we do OUR job You think you mob, we the motherfuckin mob Ain't nuttin but killers and the niggaz All you motherfuckers us Our shit's goin and four-quadruple (take money)
You niggaz laugh cause our staff got, guns in motherfuckers belts You know how it is when we drop records felt You niggaz feel it, we the realest FUCK 'EM, we Bad Boy