(I'm not trying to be nosey babe, oh no) We gotta let this one breathe, Just Just let it breathe for a sec (I'm not trying to give you no advice) Yup, Hovi's home The newest edition to the Roc (I don't plan to be no philosopher) M.O.P. The Blueprint 2 is on its way I know ya hear my footsteps out there, I'm comin' (But I still know this is the life, baby, baby) Let's go get 'em Just Time to duck, fire Duck, fire, duck, fire Duck, fire, duck, fire You don't know what you're doing, doing, doing, doing It's the MOP (yes) And the zip-code is 1 (1), 2 (2), 3 (3) And motherfucker we comin', a hunnid miles and gunnin' I'm still runnin' with cats that rob From the era of XL 80's and hatchback Saabs (Same game) Operation for this industry lock down We still tote hammers that go blak-ow Run up if you wanna, believe me dog These hammers with they owners, fuck ya G up Have ya with blue Pampers in a coma, and Your family now moan, look, 70 pounds gone A little fuck, shriveled up with a hospital gown on (We holdin' it down holmes) Keep pushin' we fell, bastards To get over, we prowl with slippery shell tactics Chipity frail bastards, your tracks need tune-ups Lil' nigglet, what the fuck you recordin' for, Nick Jr? (The game ain't changed) It just got harder Plus we sponsored by Laze, Dame Dash and Mr. S. Carter Brownsville (yep), we stomp in this bitch all day Rock with my cock out, face the crowd and piss off stage Uh, uh, uh I'm from the G side of thangs Where we ride and bang, with a heat that'll flame That's how we got the name (warriors) Embedded in ya brain, and someone should be tellin 'em The veterans have came, and we're better in the game You better make it rain (27 a grams) My man, it's better than cocaine, now everything will change In this family we'll rule the world And you haters can eat a dick up 'til you hiccup and hurl A decade on the grind, nigga I paid mine So it's my time to shine and for you can ride the pine I wont sit back and rap like these dumb ass kids I been around, I put it down, I ain't these young ass kids (MOP) The OG's repped and survived around this motherfucker (First family) We kept it live around this motherfucker When it's crunch time, we do it our wizzay For shizzle my nigga, learned to grip pistols in BK Turn my music high, high, high, high-er Mo' fire, more Rocawear attire Mo' money, mo' murder now that M.O.P.'s hired Mo' further for The Roc empire, y'all won't serve us Y'all nervous, know them guns on full service, ready to fire One body, two body, three body, four Young sittin' on paper, I'm above the law Young shittin' on haters, I ain't fuckin' with y'all For my Brownsville neighbors, How About Some Hardcore? And it just get worser, every time I sign my signature in cursive Just add another million to these verses One million, two million, three million, four And the money's really worthless, I'm pissin' you off on purpose My nephew's situated, and my mom straight So I'm ready for whatever drama should come my way And you niggas rappin' to me, so your drama is fake You dudes is noodles, I got more ziti to bake You dudes is cake, I keep two biscuits on the waist Razor blades under the tongue, I will eat your face Appetite for destruction, I am starving today Got a money hungry lawyer that'll eat the case And that's just food for thought, don't let it go to waste Nigga bite the bullet until you stuffing your face, ha I done forgot more than you ever learned What you don't know will make your home a permanent urn, nigga Do you believe it? You don't know what you're doing, doing, doing, doing Do you believe it? You don't know what you're doing, doing, doing, doing Do you believe it?
Written by: Jamal Grinnage, James Smith, Eric Murry, Shawn Carter
Lyrics © Royalty Network
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind