Mobb Deep

I'm the type of gentleman finessin Timberlands
Flippin like three grand, cop a hundred grams goin hand and hand
Hennessy guzzlin, just motherfuckin hustlin
On the streets watchin police in the gray caprice
Six Y trey gate, time to motivate
Those are the dz that like to squeeze
If you flip you gettin hit with the four pound
Pull out your gat take out more rounds
3 against 1, thats how we go down
I can't get knocked, they tryin to get the drop, damn shit is hot
Im watchin what they doin cuz they cruisin up the next block
Im hot with this chrome piece, but I don't need the position
Where I'm spittin at the motherfuckin police
I couldn't get caught, had to leave New York, couldn't use my passport
Bitches hangin up in the airport
So yo bro, got to take the jetta
Whateva, I'm on the flow gotta get these ginos
Got a hundred grams of Coke bout to blow
Feel my cold pistol fully start spittin
I'm hittin and won't miss you
I'm official, Queensbridge murdera, life gambalin especially
Professionally gat handlin
Call me V cuz I'mm vexed like a veteran
And better than whoever wanna Front let em step up in

Introducin', exclusive
Episodes of a hustla to all you fake thug motherfuckers

Sittin back, the blunt steamin, sippin heines and dreamin
Pushin keys in four wheelers, flippin millions to billions
My style is extraordinary foul when it come to grams
Im usin plans takin out the whole fam
You best to believe the trigga squeeze, makin niggas bleed
Cross sea delivery, pushin keys out of factories
Baby you sound good, blowin up in the hood, its logical
Matter fact its possible, I got my work bubblin, me and my niggas jugglin
Cracks and strugglin while we hustlin but with no question
We gonna survive to the fittest cuz we in this, style corrupt what the fuck
Life style like a menace, child livin for rounds for Queensbridge era
I be bringin terror, the natural born hustla so yea whateva

A nigga try to bag me, he grabbed me, a nigga almost had me
I pulled out the banga and blew his ass badly, I'm nasty
Crazy mentality, start a catastrophe livin life tragedy
You know you gettin jumped punk
There ain't no time for more than one
Tellin em son
(They front, Smoke his ass like a Philly blunt)
Reach for my spine, pull out my nine, cock it one time
Make him lay down, dont move around cuz your ass mine
Gave a crook look got him shook, he on the floor flinchin
Now we bitchin and he snitchin, listen
I pistol whipped him, but to know the main fact
Is that I pushed his wig back then took off in the black AC'


Motherfucker, word up
fuente: musica.com

Mobb Deep

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