(feat. Littles, Noyd)

(Get me) Uh-huh

(They pretty) Uh-huh
(Wit me) Uh-huh
(It's crispy) Yeah!

Whoo! Uh-huh, uh-huh, yo.

[Havoc]

Y'all just blowin smoke, fan in the fire
Your wife is gettin curious homie you better hide her
Keep it gully baby boy, share that

Easy when you see me, I don't like to get stared at
^!$$%z only mad cause they $$#es can't rap
Soup the cowards up, if you want, get your man clapped

Yeah - sealed signed delivered, anthrax
You got a thousand ^!$$%z I'll do numbers with half that
Catch me whylin out with a mami in Club Black

Enough on the wheels make me feel like the tunnel packed
Yeah, if it's some'n I'm feelin you runnin that
And we don't let a thing slide baby, what's up with that?

Talk on the jack like Feds, got the phone tapped
Havoc make tracks, didn't know, just hold that
Career ain't goin so well, I got that

Slide you some hot %#@!, ^!$$% it's a wrap!

[Chorus: Havoc]

See the cats in the whips wanna - get me
But I got the pounds and them .9's - they pretty
See me on the streets, them gorillas they - wit me

Bills in the pockets, know them things is - crispy
Yeah, y'all ^!$$%z #~!!@ son
Y'all not known for bustin them guns

So for the .9 I got beef for days
Y'all want it wit us don't get carried away
Call the coroner


[Littles]
Yo, a closed mouth don't get fed, that's why I talk to him

I'm hungry, ^!$$%z is eatin fo' pounds, I walk through 'em
Either you shook or your .9 spray
You got a row of sixteen and a clip, one in the head around my way

$#&@ with my money you be shot the $#&@ up
The name Littles got the streets locked the $#&@ up
Dumped off the bridge, body mopped the $#&@ up

when them Mobb Deep boys creep or pop the $#&@ up
There ain't a ^!$$% that can cramp my style
Fifteen get money, livin frozen out

You cowards softer than a (*##$, get a baby wipe
'Fore I show you what the .9 or three-eighty like
Want beef muh'$#&@er come and get me

All this rap in the booth, or whassup in the street
Not a nickel get sold in the park 'less I eat
Think different the mac'll spin you like the G-Unit piece


[Chorus - first 1/2]


[Noyd]
Aiyyo, hey hey
Look I walk around with my pound in a glass

Puffin my haze, missed with that dro and sprinkled some hash
How I roll? Why would you ask?
Know I'm swingin my piece, pocket full of G's, gun in the stash

I know y'all roll with the boys with the badge
That's why when you kick that gangsta rap, homie I just laugh
From the ave, where snitches get blast

They say - no Noyd, you won't blow makin songs like that
I say - homie you sell your soul to glitter, it don't last
I don't get no bigger, I'ma keep it realer to death

$#&@ is a check if you ain't bustin a tec
^!$$% we countin the scrilla with the gun on the deck
Countin the gang that snaps, think how many straps and vests

We flash the pound around and knuckle down the rest
We hate the E-mails and the phones, the spots get blown
It's +Deep+, we can't even speak in certain rooms


[Chorus]

[Prodigy]
Nope, you get outta here, $#&@ outta here.


I'm tellin you it's somethin 'bout them Mobb Deep boys, they no joke
They blood-thirsty for that rap music yo
It's not a song, it's a !@#$ bomb fittin to blow
They not a group, they a muh'$#&@in gang for sho'

More than a gang, we more like a troop and oh
Let's not forget to mention our jewels is whoa
All our guns get blown, all my fools is loc
E'rytime we drop a new one the streets gon' go
straight berserk, cause we don't play with that there

They know it's safe to spend they money over here
E'rytime they cop from somebody else, the %#@! wack
That %#@! there is doo-doo, the %#@! here is crack
Get 'em all higher than Scotty could ever beam 'em
They know it's safe to spend they dough over here

$#&@ that new %#@!, they high wear off too fast
Them ^!$$%z got garbage, this is that smack!

[Chorus]