Lyrics Stock

(feat. Black Rob, P-Diddy)

[Black Rob]
[Mumbling]

[G-Dep]
Really, Get smacked silly, you get smacked silly
Fucking with these niggas from the, what you gonna do
When you ready, shit I was born ready,
And I was all ready on fish and spaghetti
Creep with the culture, rap I can coach ya, attack like a vulture,see what I told ya,I said I get cha, wearing it I'll fit ya, y'all thirteen inches
I see the big picture, if it's to get richer, I'd probably get wit ya
If not burn it, get hot like a furnace
Shoot the video motherfuck city permits
We own the city, on the phone with Diddy (* Phone Sounds*)
Red bone pretty, when she get aroused like to suck her own titty
Put it in the video, ya wanna holla got to follow nigga here we go
Get you ticket, the train, don't miss it,
Won't reach out, and ya bet I won't visit
Till my whole wardrobe this is-it listen

[Chorus]
[G-Dep & Black Rob (Puffy)]
Make this money
Take this money (Let's get it)
Ain't no way you can take this from me (Let's get it)
Ain't shit funny (uh)
Shake it honey (Let's get it)
Take it money
Now let's get it (Let's get it)

[G-Dep]
Creep with your people, though my shit is sweet and low it's no equal
Front butch look, once I throw the hook you proceed to get cook,and
With the game and the soldiers sit,
When I came, the game that I owed you one
Wide big Lincoln, why he died on the side for the stinking
Watch the task force task for look Marlboro
It's a big chance, big pants,
Might guard him with my man's a type barber
Better learn quick, cause my clique don't argue (uh-uh)
You ain't my crew, then who are you, beat it
For we take off make sure that your all seated
Billboard read it believe it

[Chorus]

[G-Dep]
Soul Controller, rap like I tol' ya, kids hate me when they older
I put cracks by the stroller, registered voter, motherfucker quota
Give some baking soda and a quota
Man I flow straight up out the water,
I'm break this game till it say out of order
Who's the high scorer, then tear the floor up
On the world tour with your whore out in Europe, head on the tour bus
Do what them niggas in the drop thinks cooler
All the five quarters, headline supporters,
Hitting wives and daughters
Bought a neck spray from Esate Lauders
Call Puffy to order

[P-Diddy]
Ayo, call me Diddy I run this city,
Send the cops, D.A., the feds to come get me
Cats wanna leave me for dead you coming with me
head in the Bentley red at one fifty
Straight lose it, love two things my family my music
Might co-write and produce it
Drop mine, hot 9 exclusive, got y'all hulking like Bruce did
Deuce it, break backs and stacks it's no problem
Make raps and tracks and go Harlem
Get worldwide coverage, got so many spots I don't even buy luggage
Ya love it
Make moves major, hide out in Asia,
If your girl keep coming around them I'm a blaze her
I'm the Bad Boy flavor, light blue gators
NOT GUILTY
and I'm filthy
C'mon

[Chorus]

[Black Rob (Puffy)]
I be the east side Soprano, Rob Marciano
Flow in they channel with the opposite handle
Forty-five sparks turn your day gray flannel
Snatch the yay of the mantle, the proceed to dismantle
Can't say Rob, how many niggas done tried to play mob,
Quit they day job
Tired of putting broke niggas under the wing
If I go to jail again I'm going under the bing
Act like you gonna pull that thing, thing
You the one who always gets stuck for bling, bling
I represent eight blocks and sing-sing
Almost caught a buck fifty for fucking with Latch in Killer Queens
Moves for paper, moves no chaser
Bullets out the blazer four-fifths with the laser
Come and get your shit splitted, newspapers said I did it
(We ain't do it) Now let's get it (Let's get it)

[Chorus x3]

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