Mobb Deep Follow

(feat. Tony Yayo)

[Havoc]

We get that paper baby boy, it's easy

You want to be who? You can't be me

Shorty gave me that ass on GP

Rollin' in a G-500, or the Porsche, roof open

And I know that you're hopin' that I fall real soon

But I ain't goin' nowhere, hate to bust your balloon

And there ain't that much room for all us

Limited space, the game like a tour bus

I won't break, I just take, take and take

Rape and rape, the game til there's no more cake

Snitch ass niggaz givin' up identities

Ain't my fault theymakin' pennies

They soft like ice cream, sweeter than Ben & Jerry's

Like hoffa, leavin' nowhere to be found but buried

The gun won't fail me, the money won't leave me

Stop schemin' on me baby, it ain't that easy

Niggaz leave prints cause their palms so greasy

Their mind read easy, I see right through 'em

The AK'll do em, like nobody do 'em

Stop, it's best that you keep it movin', you'll get shot

[Hook: Havoc - 2X]

We ain't lickin' niggaz, we ain't bustin' shots in the air

No warnin' shots, the fuck out of here

Oh man homey, hate to do you like this

Oh man homey, when the tooley go click, click, click

[Tony Yayo]

It's the young high-roller, the talk of New York

David got my neck lookin' like a lightning ball

I'm in that two-door Range Stormer

My truck plush, and the wheels are the size of rims on a school bus

I need that Bill Gates money, that's fifty-one billion

Six hundred ki's, that's fifty-one million

Me and 50 in Hollywood, with Quincy Jones

Since the Feds bought Nextel, I trashed my phone

Listen homes, everything glisten homes

Yeah my gun and my rims both sit on chrome

You move way by the car, I move way by the carload

I drive ta Marcy in a Murcielago

My connect is a Cuban named Flaco

With my aim, you a human taco

Meetin' shells, yo the feds tryin' to peep our sales

My daughter grow up, she in Harvard and Yale, yeah

[Hook: Havoc - 2X]

[Prodigy]

You see me rollin', Mack-10 showin' out the window

When you catchin' me shootin' out the coup, then switch your lane

You don't want me creepin' two miles an hour, with my seat low

Cause I'll hop up out the sun-roof with fully-autos and embed it in your brain

It's like fee, fie, foe, fum, I smell the blood of a jealous ass punk

One, two, three hundred shots

Fittin' to ring off them things off, and cook the block

Old people, the pets and the kids

Whoever in the way, them strays gon' hit

And we don't give a fuck about the police nigga

This ain't Manhattan, this Queens nigga

We're immune to the violence, it's nothin' to me

Fuck 'em - they don't give a fuck about P

If they could kill me, believe me, they would

That's why I set it off, and I get 'em real good

When them street, lights, come on nigga

You best, have, your gun on nigga

Cause tonight we ride (Growl) and you die (Growl)

As soon as I walk up, or drive-by

[Hook: Havoc - 2X]