* your bitch in the click you claim Westside when we rock on me quickWe game you claim to be a player,but I * your wife.We bust on bad boys niggas * for lifePlus Buffy trying to see me weak horse.I rip Mickey Smalls and Junior Mafia some mark ass bitchesWe keep on coming while we running for your jewelsSteady gunning, keep on busting at them foolsYou know the rulesLil' Ceaser go ask your homie how I leave youCut your young ass up and leave you in piecesNow be deceased Lil' Kim don't * around with real G'sQuick to snatch your ugly ass off the streetsSo * beats I let them niggas know it's on for lifeDon't let the Westside ride the night HahaBad boy murdered on wax and kip* with me and get your caps peeledYou know, see *** your blocks when you see TupacCall the cops when you see Tupac Uh,who shot me but your punks getting finished now you're about to feel the wrath of a menace nigga I hit em up* your style, you motherfuckers know what time it is.I don't even know why I'm on this trackY'all niggas ain't even on my level.I'm gonna let my little homies ride on you bitch made ass bad boy bitchesFeel it! Get out the way yo,get out the way yoBiggie Smosh that Scott drop,little move past the mat and let me hit him in his backFrank Wright need to kiss Bank Wright for setting straps,little accident murderer And I ain't never heard of ya,poisonous cats attack when I'm serving yaSpank and shake, get hostile when I gank,guard your rank Cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint,puffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm running through niggaAnd I smoke a junior mafia in front of you nigga,with the ready powerTuckin' my gas under my Eddie Bauer,ya clout petty sour,I'll push packages every hourHit em up, *** your blocks when you see Tupac,call the cops when you see TupacWho shot me but your punk's getting finished,now you're bout to feel the wrath of a menacenigga we hit em up,people how we do it keep it real,it's penitentiary steel this ain't no freestyle battle,all you niggas getting killed with your mouths opentryna come up off of me,you in the clouds hoping,smoking dope it's like a shermall our niggas think they learn to fly,but they burn, motherfucker you deserve to dietalking bout you getting money,but it's funny to me,all you niggas living bummywhy you * with me,I'm a self made millionaire,thug living out of prisonpistols in the air,biggie remember when I used to let you sleepon the couch and beg a bitch to let you sleep in the housenow it's all about Versace,you copy my stylefive shots, cook and drive me,I took it and smilednow I'm bout to set the record straightwith my AK I'm still the thug that you love to hatemotherfucker I'll hit em upI'm from N.E.W.Jers,where plenty murders occursno point to come if we bring the drama to all you heardso I go check the scenariolittle scenes I bring you fake G'ssit your knees coppin' pleasin' D's,you narvio little Kim is you,coked up or doped uphere's your little Junior,I will click smoked upWhat the * is you stupid?I take money,crash and mash through BrooklynWith my clique lootin',shootin' and pollutin' your blockWith 15 shot cock lock till you're not outlawed Might be a clique movin' up another notchIn your box tops,pops get mobbed and dropped Know your fake ass East Coast props brainstormedand locked Use a B-Biter,a Pac style takerI tell you to your face you ain't * but a fakerSo for the alizé with a chaser Bout to get murdered for the paperE.D.I mean the processing of the caper Like a loke with low season and a chokeWe ain't no motherfuckin' joke,thug life, niggas better be knownWe approachin', in the wide open,gun smokin' No need for hopin',it's a battle lostI got em' crossed as soon as the funk is poppin' offNigga, I hit em' upNow you tell me who won I see them, they runThey don't wanna see us Whole Junior Mafia clique dressin' up trynabe us How the * they gon' be the mob when wealways on our job We millionaires,killin' ain't fair but somebodygotta do it Oh yeah,Mob D You wanna * with us?You little young ass motherfuckersDon't one of you niggas got sickle cell or something?You fuckin' with me nigga,you fuckin' around and have a seizure or a heart attackYou better back the * up before you get smacked the * upThis how we do it on our sideAny of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it,bring it But we ain't singin',we bringin' drama * you and your motherfuckin' mamaWe gon' kill all you motherfuckersNow when I came out I told you it was just about BiggieThen everybody had to open their mouth for the motherfucker opinionWell this how we gon' do this* Mobb Deep,* BiggieBiggie * bad boy as a staff record label and as a motherfucking fruitAnd if you want to be down with bad boy,then * you to Chino XL.* you,tooAll you motherfuckers.* you, tooEarly on motherfuckers * you die slow motherfucker my phone phone make sure all your kids don't grow you motherfuckersCan't be us or see us.We got the * thug life riders Westside till we die out here in California,nigga We want your will bomb on you motherfuckers.We do our job.You think you mom nigga?We the motherfucking mob ain't number kill us in real niggas all you motherfuckers fillers.I should go triple in four quatroBecause our staff got guns and they motherfuckers bells,you know, how it is when we drop recordsThey felt you niggas can't feel it.We the realest * him.We bad boy kill