I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends Steady gunna keep on bustin' at them foobs, You know the rules Lil Ceaser 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 Gs Quit the snatch your ugly ass off the streets So * beats, I let the niggas know it's on for life Don't let the westside ride the night Bad boy murdered on wax and kill * with me and get your cats pilled You know, see *** your blocks when you see Tupac Call the cops when you see Tupac Who shot me? Bunch of punks didn't finish Now you bout to feel the wrath of a menace Nigga, I hit em up Check this out, you motherfuckers 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 Feel me! Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo Biggie Smosh just got dropped Lil' Moo passed the mat And let me hit him in his back Frank Wright need to get spanked right for settin' tracks Lil' accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya Poisonous cats attack when I'm servin' 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 fuckin' block, I'm runnin' through nigga And I'm smokin' 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 blocks when you see Tupac Call the cops when you see Tupac Who shot me? Bunch of punks didn't finish 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 gettin' killed with your mouths open Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds open Smokin' dope, it's like a sherman Niggas think they learn to fly But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die Talkin' bout you gettin' money, but it's funny to me All you niggas livin' bummy, why you fuckin' with me? I'm a self-made millionaire Thug livin' out a 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 Motherfucker, I'll 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 scenes, I bring you fake G's Sit your knees, coppin' pleas and degenerio Little gimmicks, you coped up or doped up Get your little Junior Wopper clique smoked up What the * is you stupid? I take money, crash them asses through Brooklyn With my clique, lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block With 15 shot, cock locked till you're not outlawed Mafia clique, movin' up another notch In your box top spots, gettin' mobbed and dropped All your fake ass East Coast props, brainstormed and locked Use a B-biter, a Pac style taker I'll 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 choke Untuned smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke Dog like niggas better be knowin' We approachin', in the wide open, gun smokin' No need for hopin', it's a battle lost I got em' forced, as soon as the funk is poppin' 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 clique, dressin' up, tryin' to be us How the * they gon' be the mob when we always on our job? We millionaires Killin' ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it Oh yeah, Mob D You wanna * with us? No one of you niggas got sickle cell or somethin' You fuckin' with me nigga, you fuckin' with her and have a seizure or 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 singin', we bringin' drama * you and your motherfuckin' mama We gon' kill all you motherfuckers Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie Then everybody had to open they mouth with a motherfucker opinion Well this how we gon' do this * Mob D * Biggie * Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfuckin' crew And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy Then * you too Chino XL * you too All you motherfuckers * you too All of y'all motherfuckers * you, die slow motherfucker My fo'-fo' make sure all y'all kids don't grow You motherfuckers can't pee us or see us We motherfuckin' thug like riders west side till we die Out here in California nigga, we warn you We'll bomb on you motherfuckers We do our job You think you mob nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob Ain't nothin' but killers and the real niggas All you motherfuckers feel us Our shits go triple and four quadruple You niggas laugh cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckin' belts You know how it is when we drop records, they fell You niggas can't feel it, we the realest * em', we Bad Boy killin'