Lyrics:
own two
No crew just see what this Mac-11 gon do
Plenty bodies gon be dropping soon
As I come through
Hop out let it rip head slugs go threw
here yo he loved his son
Matter of fact my pops the one that showed me a gun
And said Popi, you gotta protect ya moms
Even if that means that you gotta
Intro
The number one set and sound...live! Ghetto Music. Produced by
KRS One.
Widdy bye bye bye bye bye bye bye
Widdy bye bye bye bye
it's probably this (fiesta)
Yes ma, Bed-Stuy, fiesta
Remix with the homie from the Midwest side
Game recognize game, hoes do too
It's the new 2 Live
Mary
Live ya life girl
(On the real-a, live ya life girl)
Love is all we need (said it's all we need)
'Cause everybody needs love
Love is
blow
- all ya niggas backdown
Thats why real killers love my rap style
Cause i wont never letem live again
When u get caught u goto the
Same jail that
the girls give it to me
I ain't gotta take it
Oh, pop champagne
Ohh, pop champagne
Ohh, we pop champagne
Ohh, we pop champagne
We need more bottles tell ma
Remember gamin' on dumb hotties at yo' party
Me and you, no truer two, while schemin' on hits
And gettin' tricks that maybe we can slide into
But now you
a limousine with a chauffeur
Phone bill about two G's flat
No need to worry, my accountant handles that
And my whole crew is loungin'
Celebratin' every day,
Ayo Jay word up, these motherfuckers
Fuckin' talkin' that comeback shit like they cookin' crack
Shit I ain't frontin' all I want my pockets green
[Verse 1]
Diamonds in my bracelet shine like a Kodak flash
Just motivation for these freaky hoes to show that ass nigga
I pop tags on a throwback
Ayo Jay word up, these motherfuckers
Fuckin' talkin' that comeback shit like they cookin' crack
Shit I ain't frontin' all I want my pockets green
[Jay]
One two, one two, and I say
I go by the name of Jam Master Jay
And the Hollis Crew, we here to stay believe that
[D.M.C.]
Hey, as we let
I'm never borin', I keep tourin'
My record sales keep soarin' and soarin'
I'll make a million, maybe two
Buy some rides, go blow the dough on my crew
name is, man we got a real crew, we got
Motherfuckers over here rapping for real, eat pussy on records and
Shit, that shit ain't what's happening, we
gold digger gorgeous tryna get me
I run game on a bitch, one Mississippi two Mississippi
Flint nigga in the spot til they pop one and the cops come
fuckin' dome
Now the shit can rest, yo tell him to leave me the fuck alone
Two very bloody bodies on the streets
A nosey ass cop and a nigga that robbed
flexin', let me see if this mic workin' (mic)
Always make a good impression, live at the Grammy's, let me tuck my shirt in
Snuck the work in the Birk' like
And another thing:
Me and my crew, we made hit records all over the place
But we left B-Boy Records
And you know what happened after that point?
Ha hah,
crew
Philly, soda pop
I'm gonna run down my family tree like this:
One, two, one two three and
I got a friend by the name of Charlie
Charlie got
a Mac-10
And rather live the life of crime
With my Bed-Stuy connection connected in two
It's liable to start shit too wild for you
Peace to, Baisley, Forty-P
but we not makin' no G's
And that's a no-no (yeah, uh)
Check it, a one-two, a one-two dope niggas in the Cadillac
They call us, went from Player's
it's time to get ghost
If you want to stay you get beat by a pig
Fuck that shit 'cause were I live
My boys got my neck and I got theirs
'cause I'm true
of mine."
"I don't wanna talk about Jed.
I don't watch channel 2 or 6 or 9.
I don't have time to talk that fast,
And it ain't my crime."
"It
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