|
Verse One: Havoc and Prodigy
|
|
Yo I rose early mornin, spread my wings yawnin
|
Vague memory of last night now it's all dawnin
|
Look down and see dry blood all on my garment
|
It stained all my Guess farmer's, colored enormous
|
I hopped up, outta my bed holdin my head
|
Flashbacks of gun shots shot past my head
|
I can recall an eight man brawl three men fall
|
Bullets flew I had to drug my man behind a wall
|
Left a wet trail, delivered these slugs like air mail
|
Directly at the cat that made my man blood spill
|
An eye for an eye you know my science of life
|
Is you man or mice thugs or the cowardly type
|
I kick the 98 shit for your ears to list
|
Nigga P where you headed it's time to pass kids
|
[what's the kids be doin' yo]
|
Kickin' rhymes that's true lies
|
Let me break 'em down to size minimize they air air time
|
After this you never will go back to that which
|
Sit back an' write half ass shit
|
The last official takin out the artificial
|
Let me relieve you replace that shit with some lethal
|
Mobb, remember the name it's been along
|
That nigga's shook to death from the first fuckin song
|
Fluidly my mind flooded with jewels infinite
|
The kinda rap bandits in attics stuck on some live shit
|
Bear witness to this diligent street cat
|
I carry myself hold myself down in fact
|
This one dedicated to my niggaz on run
|
Holdin big gats go for your gun
|
Prepare to crush them we trust none
|
Man who ain't down with the clan
|
The Mobb dynasty apparantly you thought I was some other type
|
Nigga you could fuck with you shit outta luck
|
Boss I break your compass throw you way off course
|
We buildin from ground up startin from ground zero
|
Mafia on da see the name upon the mirror
|
Durable physically fit raps articulate
|
You get your whole skeleton cracked somethin ridiculous
|
Still facinated by my ste
|
Little P wanna be me, huh you no D
|
|
Chorus: Prodigy
|
|
One time son you know we be the illest in this
|
Push the shit back, QBC gat, plottin to move back
|
The big mouth cat ship'll sink to the bottom
|
Easily overthrowin niggaz, rollin over niggaz
|
|
Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef
|
|
Yo crushed grills, dollar bills, swiss suit on
|
Screw on drysell nigga with his loot on
|
Watch this, gun glock less, fiends scopin out my rock shit
|
Diamond on some H&R Block shit
|
Hear me, gets Larry and his sneakers are shot
|
Word to me Dunn, the uniform do mean a lot
|
I approach lit up cousin sit up matter of fact get up
|
What fuss on the bottom face slit up
|
Yeah where you from I'm from here
|
You know Brina and Javier, and Little Life doin thirty years
|
Analyzin this wise guy a look alike first prize guy
|
Lit up the thai said riiiight!
|
Emotionally playin him close like I'm suppossed to be
|
Somethin spoke to me, it was this little nigga pokin me
|
I heard sirens now turn around about to hit em
|
Son was pro nine with the emblem
|
Grabbed my goose down the walkie-talkie
|
Foul I'm loose now shot went off knocked the juice down
|
It ricocheted and hit a GS now here comes EMS, Dunn was leanin near a ZX
|
Next time shit's parental, God slap fire out yer mental
|
Jet in a boat with rims to mental
|
|
Chorus 2X
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Nighttime Vultures
|
| Mobb Deep |
