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Word up son, word |
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Yeah, to all the killers and the hundred dollar billers |
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For real, *****s who ain't got no feelings, check it out now |
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I got you stuck off the realness |
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We be the infamous, you heard of us |
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Official Queens bridge murderers |
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The Mobb comes equipped with warfare |
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Beware of my crime family |
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Who got 'nuff shots to share |
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For all of those who wanna profile and pose |
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Rock you in your face |
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Stab your brain with your nosebone |
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You're all alone in these streets, cousin |
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Every man for their self in this land we be gunnin' |
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And keep them shook crews runnin' like they supposed to |
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They come around but they never come close to |
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I can see it inside your face |
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You're in the wrong place |
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Cowards like you just get they're whole body laced up |
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With bullet holes and such |
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Speak the wrong words man and you will get touched |
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You can put your whole army against my team and |
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I guarantee you it'll be your very last time breathin' |
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Your simple words just don't move me |
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You're minor, we're major |
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You all up in the game and don't deserve to be a playa |
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Don't make me have to call your name out |
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Your crew is featherweight |
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My gunshots'll make you levitate |
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I'm only nineteen but my mind is older |
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And when the things get for real |
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My warm heart turns cold |
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Another ***** deceased, another story gets told |
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It ain't nuttin' really, ay yo dun, ***** the Philly |
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So I can get my mind off these yellow backed *****s |
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Why they still alive? I don't know, go figure |
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Meanwhile back in Queens the realness is foundation |
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If I die, I couldn't choose a better location |
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When the slugs penetrate, you feel a burning sensation |
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Getting closer to God |
