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Yeah
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Uhhh
|
|
[Foxy]
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It's time for everybody
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To get they muthafuckin' minds right
|
Cause it's about to go down
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Straight like that
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Oooh
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Uhhh
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Kid Capri
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Ill Na Na
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And the muthafuckin' L-O-X
|
That's right
|
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Chorus (Styles)
|
|
>From the top of New York, where they be poppin' they corks
|
>From the bottom of the slums, where they be poppin' they guns
|
Niggas that rock whips and get plenty of one's
|
But niggas goin' hand and hand, are havin' to run
|
The niggas that had cake and got sent up state
|
For the mother who lost the child and had to settle for weight
|
For those who up out the ghetto, but don't know how to skate
|
Guess you gotta live the life that has fallen to fate
|
|
[Sheek]
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Aye yo, aye yo
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Our shit contagious, so ya'll niggas try to quaratine us
|
Ya'll niggas shook up, and all that like Orange Juice is
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My gun American, but my niggas got foreign enemies
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Six cars between us, laced out
|
Half my money from the drug route, ya know how that goes
|
We into heavy metal plugs, and slum shit for the nose
|
Is Sheek Lucion, he better ball with a groupie on
|
My python, gettin' sex
|
In hotels with connect the rooms
|
Fill letter walk through on his ex
|
Jadakiss and Styles walk a pound up through a storm
|
Room service, bring 'em champagne with five matts on
|
>From most hated, to heavy rotated, forget it
|
Next stop is movies, ya'll check it when Blockbuster get it
|
Cheap-skates, sweatin' off pre-release dates
|
For Money, Power & Respect, on platnuim out the gates
|
>From Rusell Simmons to Puff, Lox and DMX copped it
|
Big time, we probably shoot this joint up on tropics
|
When we eat fish like whiteies
|
And bitches have all nighties
|
Suckin' dick, me I'm on some jail shit
|
Standing up, jerkin' off, while these hoes see these doubles click
|
|
Chorus (Styles)
|
|
>From the top of New York, where they be poppin' they corks
|
>From the bottom of the slums, where they be poppin' they guns
|
Niggas that rock whips and get plenty of one's
|
But niggas goin' hand and hand, are havin' to run
|
The niggas that had cake and got sent up state
|
For the mother who lost the child and had to settle for weight
|
For those who up out the ghetto, but don't know how to skate
|
Guess you gotta live the life that has fallen to fate
|
|
[Foxy Brown]
|
Uhh, uhh
|
Bet I salute all chicks that be gettin' them chips
|
Throw it up, for my bitches, that be poppin' that Crist'
|
Specially to the one's, who be ridin' that dick
|
And if the pussy bangin', hope it cop to a stick
|
And all my thorough chicks, who cried and lied for these cats
|
Out of twon, on a hound for these cats, ehh
|
Shit got dick, let 'em ground for these cats
|
And the crocodle Prada, satsh the pund for these cats
|
Me and my bitches got down for these cats
|
Paid our dues, for 62's, taped to the top
|
Seen the truth through the lie, but the bullshit is fine
|
Like a trooper, I put that one the life that I ride
|
Guilty charges, straight copped out the 3-5
|
Now fucking my crew, suffer and die
|
Maximum 25, baby fuck if I fry
|
It's a ditry game, when it come to slingin' them thangs
|
Bail like a hundered-thou, but the us is more change
|
Shit, i used to trick that from jewels and the rings, huh
|
|
Chorus (Styles)
|
|
>From the top of New York, where they be poppin' they corks
|
>From the bottom of the slums, where they be poppin' they guns
|
Niggas that rock whips and get plenty of one's
|
But niggas goin' hand and hand, are havin' to run
|
The niggas that had cake and got sent up state
|
For the mother who lost the child and had to settle for weight
|
For those who up out the ghetto, but don't know how to skate
|
Guess you gotta live the life that has fallen to fate
|
|
[Styles]
|
Fred one, for niggas that be bustin' they gun
|
Till the death, what'd you expect for a couple of one's
|
Fred two, for niggas that ain't ever had shit
|
Messed up, locked down, go on and grab shit
|
Fred three, for niggas on lock without a key
|
That ain't never comin' home, but you know how it be
|
Livin' to die, but niggas ain't willin' to die
|
If you bust up in the air, you ain't killin' the sky
|
Feelin' the high, nigga is you willin' to lie
|
You a crumb and you dumb, you ain't stealin' the pie
|
I leave a bloody mess, nigga bigger then me, cut his neck
|
Lox brothers, ya'll niggas is cock-suckers
|
Yellow belly cowards, I want Money and the Power
|
Assassin, you think it's a joke, you'll die laughing
|
Hoppin' out the plane, and only bring the captain
|
Start of a legacy, a hard broke down and start beggin' me
|
Dog I'm a whole different pedigree
|
Take me to the limit, I'm layin' in the cut
|
While you playin' in the scrimage
|
Meet you at the final
|
Lyrically, I'm spiritually, drunkier then a winow
|
Posion, house full of rhyme
|
Bring your boys in
|
Tell 'em take it easy, have a seat on the couch
|
I'm the govenor, ya'll bitch niggas is crowds
|
Take orders, we need passports at the border
|
Transport the water, sheerest corner
|
Fell sick to be hit, but we wasn't the cure
|
Make your ear-drums pop, probably lick drop
|
Eyes slinch up, leaves hit the foor by the time he spits up
|
Nobody gets up
|
|
Muthafuckas
|
L-O-X muthafucka
|
L-O-X, try this shit
|
|
Chorus (with ad-libs)
|
|
>From the top of New York, where they be poppin' they corks
|
>From the bottom of the slums, where they be poppin' they guns
|
Niggas that rock whips and get plenty of one's
|
But niggas goin' hand and hand, are havin' to run
|
The niggas that had cake and got sent up state
|
For the mother who lost the child and had to settle for weight
|
For those who up out the ghetto, but don't know how to skate
|
Guess you gotta live the life that has fallen to fate
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
My Niggas
|
| Kid Capri |
