Lyrics:
on my porch gettin' high I'm like Smokey
Chipped up celly
Cussin' out Sony (Where the fuck is my cheque?)
Yo! I don't just live by reputation
I'm
equipped quit expiring
Don't sit and be shy just let them go by them lil kids
I am meant to inspire beings
On that yo I'd die on that yo I'd cry a lil bit
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Grown ups in between, children and babies
Right about now its yo' boy, ya heard, back again DJ Mannie
Fre-fresh err fresh,
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Grown ups in between, children and babies
Right about now its yo' boy, ya heard, back again DJ Mannie
Fre-fresh err fresh,
to slave the babies
Ay yo they didn't know the cop was crooked, he had blow out in Brooklyn
All his white he let the fiends cook it
The base heads
comin' like the Gotti boys
Bodies bein' found on Greenleaf
With their fuckin' heads cut off, motherfucker, I'm Dre
So listen to the play-by
comin' like the Gotti boys
Bodies bein' found on Greenleaf
With their fuckin' heads cut off, motherfucker, I'm Dre
So listen to the play-by
Brook-lawn collabo'
Yo, yo, yo (ya heard me?)
(BP step to 'em)
This is for my twenty-five to life bidders, pork fried rice eaters
New York, New York, ice
strap, that's my peace offering (Yo, yo, yo, yeah uh yeah ooh)
Five shots get rung out, five bodies falling
Come put your lights out, I spark your
strap, that's my peace offering (Yo, yo, yo, yeah uh yeah ooh)
Five shots get rung out, five bodies falling
Come put your lights out, I spark your
[Angie Martinez]
Let's get it on it's Angie Mar' reportin live from the streets
From Y.O. to Philly and Harlem to Q.B.
When it drops it's game over,
[U-God]
Yo, yo, yo, yo
Vendetta inside, swiftly start stabbin
One second to meltdown, feel the twin cannons
Burn, handgun herns, standin firm
yo' ass up
You know where we comin' from
Death Row! BIATCH! Ha ha hahaha!
A yo, Kurupt, you first to blast, nigga
And you know how we do it
Life is much mo' precious
Than you'll think
Like a game'll make yo chips sink
It's so hard
Hard to trust a smile and face
When niggas got
Bitch niggas want to know if its true
Yo tell these motherfuckers who they listening to
Verse 3 (Feddie Demarco)
This ain't no Feddie Wapp, nigga I'm
[Intro: Big Moe]
Throw, yo' hands high, wave 'em side to side
Throw, yo' hands high, wave 'em side to side
Throw, yo' hands high, wave 'em side
Good evening
You could be anywhere in the world right now
But you're right here with me
Nah this ain't no movie
This is real life
Gotti I got this
Yo yo, you heard what happened to that dude yo
(You don't want to wind up, with your head tied up)
The nigga got his head blown the fuck out
[Ja rule (fabolous)]
(we trin' to kill these niggas)
Yo
(yea, uh huh, yea)
We in the door now
(yea)
Holla, rule nigga, with the f-a-b-o haha,
Yo
Yea, Uh Huh, Yea
We in the door now
Yea
Holla, Rule nigga, With the F-A-B-O haha, Yea
Yea
Cluemanatti
My nigga
Holla back nigga
Yea, Uh,
Jus' get yo money mayn, tha INC is runnin' thangs,
hideout wit 'Loose Change'.
An' you nigga Ima send you ta mommy...
wit strict ordas from Gotti ta hide
uh yo uh yo
Aye yo, I'm old school like Rick Ruler, sick jewels to big buddah
Lift dudes wit the six shooter luger
That means bring it back, NY
gon' hit yo' ass up.
You know where we comin' from
Death Row bitch Ay yo Kurupt
You first to blast nigga and you know how we do it
It's been a long time since you've heard from us
Dat Nigga Daz Dillinger and young Gotti Kurupt
And now we back wit a little rhyme
We can't stop
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