I ain't got no mother***in' friends for your jewels Steady gunning keep on busting at them foods You know the rules Lil' Cesar go ask your homie how I leave you Cut your young ass up leave you in pieces Now be deceased Lil' Kim don't *** around with real G's Quick and snatch your ugly ass off the street So *** beats I let them niggas know it's on for life Don't let the west side ride tonight Bad boy murdered on wax and kill *** with me and get your caps peeled You know See *** your Glocks when you see Tupac Call the cops when you see Tupac Who shot me but your punk stick ain't finished Now you bout to feel the wrath of a menace Nigga I hit em up You mother***ers know what time it is I don't even know why I'm on this track Y'all niggas ain't even on my level I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch made ass Bad boy bitches Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo Biggie Smarts just got dropped Lil' Moo passed the MAC And let me hit him in his back Frank Wright need to get spanked, right For setting tracks Lil' accident murderer And I ain't never heard of ya Noiseless cats attack when I'm serving ya Spank and shake, get hostile when I gank Guard your rank cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint Puffy weaker than a ***ing block I'm running through nigga And I'm smoking Junior Mafia in front of you nigga With the ready power Tucked in my gas under my Eddie Bauer Your clout petty sour I put packages every hour Hit em up *** your Glocks when you see Tupac Call the cops when you see Tupac Who shot me but your punk stick ain't finished Now you bout to feel the wrath of a menace Nigga we hit em up We probably do it, keep it real It's penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open Tryna come up off of me You in the clouds hoping Smoking dope it's like a sherm High niggas think they learn to fly But they burn mother***er You deserve to die Talking bout you getting money But it's funny to me All you niggas living for me Why you ***ing with me I'm a self made millionaire Thug living out of prison Pistols in the air Biggie remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house Now it's all about Versace You copy my style Five shots couldn't drop me I took it and smiled Now I'm bout to set the record straight With my AK I'm still the thug that you love to hate Mother***er I hit em up I'm from N.E.W. Jers With plenty murders and curs No point to comment We bring the drama to all you herds Now go check the scenario Little C's I bring you fake G's Sit your knees copping pleas Is these your area Little Kim is you Coped up or doped up Get your little junior Whopper click smoked up What the *** is you Stupid I take money Crash and mash through Brooklyn With my click looting Shooting and polluting your block With 15 shock Hot clock till you knock Outlaw mafia click Moving up another notch In your box top spots Getting mopped and dropped All your fake ass East coast props Brainstormed and locked Use her Be brighter I'm Pac's style taker I tell you to your face You ain't *** but a faker So for the alizé with a chaser Bout to get murdered for the paper ED I mean the processing of the caper Like a loke With low season and a choker Tune smoke We ain't no mother***ing joke Thug like niggas better be known We approaching In a wide open gun smoking No need for hoping It's a battle lost I got em forced As soon as the funk is popping off Nigga I hit em up Now you tell me who won I see them They run They don't wanna see us Whole junior mafia click Dressing up tryna be us How the *** they gonna be the mob When we always on our job We millionaires Killing ain't fair But somebody gotta do it Oh yeah Mob D You wanna *** with us You little young ass mother***ers Don't one of you niggas Got sickle cell or something You ***ing with me nigga You ***ing around I have a seizure A heart attack You better back the *** up Before you get smacked the *** up It's how we do it on our side Any of you niggas from New York That wanna bring it bring it But we ain't singing We bringing drama *** you and your mother***ing mama We gonna kill all you mother***ers Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie Then everybody had to open their mouth With a mother***er opinion Well this is how we gonna do this *** Mob D *** Biggie *** Bad Boy As a staff, record label And as a mother***ing crew And if you wanna be down With Bad Boy Then *** you too Chino XL *** you too All you mother***ers *** you too Take money Take money All of y'all mother***ers *** you, die slow mother***er My fo' fo' Make sure all y'all kids don't grow You mother***ers can't pee us or see us We mother***ing thug life riders Westside till we die Out here in California nigga We warn you We'll bomb on you mother***ers We do our job You think you mob nigga We the mother***ing mob Ain't nothing but killers And the real niggas All you mother***ers feel us Our ***s go triple and four quadruple You niggas laugh Cause our staff got guns In they mother***ers belts You know how it is When we drop records they fail You niggas can't feel it We the realest *** em We Bad Boy Killa