Verse 1: (Boobonic)
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First of all I'm a T-H-U-G
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Boobonic nigga, who the fuck you be?
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If you don't really want this block then move over
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so you don't get big weight and lose it like Oprah
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caught a case down South in V.A. court
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the game change every year like EA Sport
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you see now they got platinum, mad you got gold?
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my corner's like the Beatles nigga, get your rock and roll
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niggas mad 'cause the Feds stay on me 'cause they in cars
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mad 'cause I oversee the Projects like A&R's
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try not to do hits myself, I order that
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while you cooked Four and a half and got a quarter back
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you play the tough guy role good, I ought to clap
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and did alot of rappin' too, I should've bought a track
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I had to check this comb in your rug, checkin' for soil
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got popped while you was under your hood checkin' your oil.
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Verse 2: (The Clipse)
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I graduated from Eight balls to blow thats cake size
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match me grand for grand and lets make these stakes rise
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mahavaji rich, in Egypt with eight wives
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while my fam rocks links and medallions thats plate size
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you up against The Clipse, believe theres no chance
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what you feel about hollows piercin' through your throat glands?
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see, I sweet talk the Devil, take him on a slow dance
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while your hardcore posse's is extras and road hands
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get your Fifty deep, us rollin' in Convoys
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you fuckin' with grown Men and y'all is young boys
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love double action, pack anything with loud noise
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as we kidnap your partners and use 'em as decoys.
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Chorus -
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If y'all ain't got guns (I don't represent you)
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if you ain't got coke (I don't represent you)
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if you ain't got dough (I don't represent you)
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fuck ya clique and that bullshit you been through
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(repeat)
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Verse 3: (Mr. Mr.)
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I never hold back, I cock back and twist ya
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I never been shot mothafucka, it's Mista
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I scream who's coke? who's whip is that?
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I want the main coke source, not just the crack
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I want the one who cook it up and make you push the pack
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you don't like that we cut at you nigga? bust back
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I never been the one to talk and chill shit out
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I shoot 'till it jam and the clip don't spit out
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you heard I'm 'bout to run in your house? you better get out
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Mista take stacks and coke and sort shit out
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whoever don't like it wanna come then come
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and you smart mouth niggas get popped with dum-dums.
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Verse 4: (The Clipse)
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Who the fuck wanna see us?
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chrome double barrel heaters
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mothafuckas better bow when they greet us
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red green and black strapped on Gucci wife beaters
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with platinum paint jobs on 3.8 liters
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two ways to live, cocaine or showbiz
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knee deep in crime rhyme, in coke? my shoulders
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what you know about hidin' your bricks in Folgers?
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with Grandmothers and Aunts as primary holders
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whassup lover? tell 'em take aim or take cover
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'cause we poppin' cross hand and christen your little Brother
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eagle eye block strutters composed of Baby Mothers
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how they ???? we seen double.
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Chorus 2x
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Street Tax
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| Philly's Most Wanted |
