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I'm not tryin' to be....lonely babe lord no I'm not tryin' to give you no advice I don't plan to be no philosopher But as you know this isn't right lady, lady [Jay-]: You gotta let this one breathe, just Just let it breathe for a sec Yup, Hovi's home Newest edition to the Roc M.O.P. The Blueprint 2 is on its way I know ya hear my footsteps out there...comin' Let's go get 'em just [Lil' Fame]: 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 M.O.P. (yes) 1, 1, 2, 3, 3 And mothafucka we comin', 100 miles and gunnin' I'm still runnin' with cash that's robbed From the era of exhale 80's and hats back stomp (Same game) operation for this industry lockdown We still tote hammers that go BLOCOWWW Run up if you wanna, believe me dawg These hammers with they owners, fuck ya G up Have ya with blue 'jamas in a coma, and Ya family now moan, look, 70 pounds gone A little fuck, scribbled up with a hospital gown on (We holdin' it down Holmes) Keep pushin' weak frail bastards To get over, we prowl with slimmer re-shelled tactics Jiminy frail bastards, your tracks need tune-ups No limit, what the fuck, recordin' for Nick Junior? (The game ain't changed) It just got harder Plus we sponsored by laz' Dame Dash and Mr. S. Scott Carter Brownsville (yep), we stomp in this bitch all day Rock with my cock out, face the crowd and piss off stage [Billy Danze]: Uh, uh, uh, I'm from the G-side of thangs Where we ride and bang, where the heat died of flame That's how we got the name (warriors) And better than ya bank, and someone should be tellin' 'em The veterans have came, and we're better in the game (You better make it rain) (27 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 won't sit back and rap like these dumb ass kids I been around, I put it down, I ain't these young ass kids (M.O.P.) The OG's repped and survived around this motherfucka (First family) We kept it live around this motherfucka When it's crunch time, we do it our wi-zzay For shizzle my nigga, learn to grip pistols and BK [Jay-Z]: Whoo Turn my music high, high, high, higher Mo' fire, more Roc-a-wear attire Mo' money, mo' murder now that M.O.P.'s hired Mo' murder for the Roc empire, ya'll won't surface Ya'll nervous knowin' 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 ya'll For my Brownsville neighbors, how about some hardcore? And it just get worser, every time I saw 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 pissing you off on purpose My nephew's situated, and my mama's straight So I'm ready for whatever drama should come our 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 Razorblades under the tongue I will eat ya face Appetite for destruction, I am starvin' today Got a money hungry lawyer that'll ea the case And that's just food for thought Don't let it go to waste Nigga, bite the bullet until you stuffin' ya face I done forgot more than you ever learned What you don't know will make your home a permanent earn, nigga Do you believe in me? Oh, no You don't know what you're doing, doing, doing, doing Do you believe in me? Oh, no You don't know what you're doing, doing, doing, doing |