Mobb Deep — G.O.D. Pt. III

[Intro] Some of that 151, son (Yeah, some of that bogus, no doubt) (What you got in the trunk?) Aight Ayo, son, yo, yo, you think that motherfuckin' nigga's out there right now, son? (Word, what he doin' out here?) Son, we got drama with that nigga, he tried to fuckin' front last week What, that cat out there? Yo, I seen that nigga earlier, know what I'm sayin'? Nah, fuck that, go, go open the window real quick, son Open that fuckin' window (You gonna take him from the window, nigga?) Yo, hold up That's that nigga right there, son? Right next to the basketball court? (Yeah yeah, that's the one) Oh shit, c'mere, c'mere, c'mere, c'mere, turn the lights out (That's him too, son, that's him too) (Back up, back up, they lookin') Ayo, son, I'ma hit that nigga right now, son Word to mom, I'ma hit him out the window, son (Yo, you buggin', son) Nah, chill, son, fuck that I'ma hit that nigga right out the motherfuckin' window, hold up (Go 'head, son, go 'head, man) Nah, fuck that, I'ma hit this nigga out the window, son (Go 'head, man) Chill, chill, chill, chill, chill, don't blow it up, duck down, son (Here, let me do it, man, let me do it, go 'head) Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, nigga, yeah, yeah Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme Fucker (What?) [Chorus] Pt. III QBC, sip lime Bacardi Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink Drama we bring, yeah, that's a small thing G.O.D. Father Pt. III QBC, sip lime Bacardi Yo, we heavy on the wrist, my ice rink Drama we bring, yo, that's a small thing [Verse 1: Prodigy] Alright now, pay attention to the crime rhyme Houdini P Keeping you niggas in perspective Mobb representative, call me the specialist Professional, professor at this rap science Up in the laboratory, that's why your small rhyme bore me Your store-bought rap ain't shit, my category Is that of an insane man who strike back (What?) I draw first blood, it's over with and that's that You wanna square off, I'm sayin', "Slice that cat" You get splashed from back of your head to asscrack Searching for signs of the end, well, I am that Which bring apocalypse to this game called rap Not a game, but quite serious and yo, in fact You'll be running for dear life, so far you might fall off the map Fuckin' with P, you need the gat At least you had a opportunity to bust back Fresh out the motherfuckin' pack, a rare world premiere Shook individuals bounce in blind fear Scared-to-death niggas fall to they worst fear Horror tales in Braille for vision-impaired You lookin' for P, well, you can find him everywhere In a project near you, I'll be right there I was brought up and taught to have no fear (Now) Live wire niggas, they behind me in the rear (Now) Cowardly hearts, step aside, stand clear (Clear) My bloodthirsty niggas got they eyes on you (You) QBC, lime Bacardi, Godfather Pt. III On some hashish, the Embassy Suite, crash your party [Chorus] Yo, it's the G.O.D. Father Pt. III QBC, sip lime Bacardi Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink Drama we bring, yo, that's a small thing It's the G.O.D. Father Pt. III QBC, sip lime Bacardi Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink Drama we bring, yo, that's a small thing [Verse 2: Havoc] Yeah, yo, lime Bacardi, gettin' bent, crash the party Handle B-I, bringin' it to anybody Physical damage, crowd control, handle cannons Hittin' you with, leavin' your bloodstream contamined While you acting out of character, we observin' Grillin' 'em down so hard, I know he felt it coming at hm Hennessy raps, we like the Phantom Running you up out of the spot in which you standin' Never second-guess a cat who hold gat Concealed, but easily revealed if that's Body casting raps to get your back snapped in half and severed Impossible pain beyond measure Shiesty living brought him to his last prayer (Prayer) Life changed around quick with one stare (Stare) Face full of fear, conquering your ice grill (Grill) Drowsiness, put him to sleep like NyQuil (NyQuil) Given a overdose of this rap potent Potentially dangerous, fatally left open For the vultures, scavengers, that's EMS Funeral homes anticipating your death That's the dead truth, check in the morgue, you'll find proof Enough to make you think and stop before your ship sink To the bottom, like Albolene, the Mobb'll spot him You know the routine, face up before I shot him [Chorus] 'Cause it's the G.O.D. Father Pt. III QBC, sip lime Bacardi Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink Drama we bring, yeah, that's a small thing G.O.D. Father Pt. III QBC, sip lime Bacardi Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink Drama we bring, yo, that's a small thing It's the G.O. Father Pt. III QBC, sip lime Bacardi Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink Drama we bring, yo, that's a small thing G.O.D. Father Pt. III QBC, sip lime Bacardi Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink Drama we bring, yo, that's a small thing [Outro] What? Uh (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) G.O.D. Father Pt. III, nigga