Текст песни Mobb Deep - It's Mine (feat. Nas)

Murda Muzik
Жанр: East Coast Rap
Исполнитель: Mobb Deep
Альбом: Murda Muzik
Длительность: 04:24
Рейтинг: 1738
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: NeoNY


Yeah.. yeah.. (hahahaha) uh-huh, yeah yeah (HAH hahahaha) Huh yo, you know it Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine) (hahahaha) Infamous two thousand (Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby) (AHHH hahahaha).. (hahaha).. (HAH haha) [Havoc] Yo... straight thugs on this side - it's do or die to the death Like the terminal ill takin they last breath Read your last rites - God, forgive me for the sin I'm about to commit - takin a life Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else readin my will - you feel what I feel, you know the deal Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head Hearin noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red Sleep with half closed eyelids Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get Go easy on the bottle, niggaz love to see when niggaz slippin off point, on the strength they bet Scopin your ice, appraisin it like the Diamond District Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit Do ya, wanna get caught lifted; or sober, so you can react quick? Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin my wife on my thousand dollar mattress It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me [Chorus: Nas {singing to the chorus of Brandy's "The Boy is Mine"}] Y'all need to give it up.. we don't give a fuck.. what y'all niggaz want.. thug, life, is, mine Y'all need to give it up.. cause we don't give a fuck.. what y'all niggaz want.. thug, life, is, mine [Prodigy] I got the style of a still-born child, I'm ill If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very very) The sreets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it So when they start shootin, we don't stop the music Keep it moving that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon Dunn) Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin (Still crawlin) Apply street rules to the office, high performance Rap author, made millions off of - melodic, hypnotic productions That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?) You feel me? I'll write a graphic page Escort niggaz to they grave, relate to the projects We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this!) It's more real than any words I can muster Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?) Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggaz can't touch us [Chorus] [Nas Escobar] Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin out the latest toy Hazard lights blinkin, gators hit the floor Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin Just to think, that was yesterday's action Cause today goes either way - we came a long way from hallway steps and hand-me-down shit Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home Quincy Jones posters Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son NAStradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds When you feel the heat, comin and flee with the murder weapon I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it Cremate your flesh to ashes You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket [Chorus] [Nas] The, life, is, mine [repeat 3X] Ill Will.. You need to give it up.. we don't give a fuck what y'all niggaz want.. we don't give a fuck
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