I'm not trying to be nosey babe oh no I'm not trying to give you no advice (Hovie's home) I don't plan to be (New addition to the roc) no philosopher But I still know this is the life Baby Baby
You gotta let this one breathe, just Just let it breathe for a sec Yup, Hovi's home Newest edition to the Roc M.O.P. The Blueprint 2 is on its way I know ya hear my footsteps out there, comin' Let's go get 'em just
Time to duck, fire Duck, fire, duck, fire Duck, fire, duck, fire!
(You Don't know what you're doing, doing, doing, doing)
It's the MOP (Yes) In a zip-code that's 1, 1, 2, 3, 3 And motherfucker we coming, 100 miles and gunning I'm still running with cash that's robbed From the era of exhale 80's and hats back stomp (Same game!) operation for this industry lock down We still tote hammers that go... Run up if you wanna, believe me dog These hammers with they owners, fuck ya G up Have ya with blue 'jamas in a coma, and Ya family now moan, look, 70 pounds gone A little fuck, scribbled up with a hospital down on (We holding it down holmes!)keep pushing weak frail bastards To get over, we prowl with slimmer re-shelled tactics Jiminy frail bastards, your tracks need tune-ups No limit, what the fuck, recording for nig' junior (The game ain't changed)it just got harder Plus we sponsored by laz' Dame Dash and Mr. S. Carter Brownsville(yep), we stomp in this bitch all day Rock with my cock out, face the crowd and piss off stage
Uh, Uh, Uh, I'm from the G side of things Where we ride and bang, where the heat died of flame That's how we got the name (warriors!) And better than ya bank, and someone should be tellin 'em The veterans have came, and we're better in the game (You better make it rain!) "27 grams" my man It's better than cocaine, now everything will change In this family we'll rule the world And you haters can eat a dick up till you hiccup and erm A decade on the grind, nigga I paid mine So it's my time to shine and for you can ride the pine I wont sit back and rap like these dumb ass kids I been around, I put it down, I ain't these young ass kids (MOP!) The OG's repped and survived around this motherfucker (First family!) We kept it live around this motherfucker When it's crunch time, we do it our wizzay For shizzle my nigga, learn to grip pistols and BK
Turn my music high, high, high, high-er Mo' fire, mo' problems, more Roc-a-wear attire Mo' money, mo' murder now that M.O.P.'s hired Mo' murder for the ROC empire, y'all wont surface Y'all nervous knowing them guns on full service, ready to fire One body, two body, three body, four Young sitting on paper, I'm above the law Young shitting on haters, I ain't fucking with y'all For my Brownsville neighbors, How About Some Hardcore? And it just get worser, every time I write my signature in cursive Just add another million to these verses One million, two million, three million, four And the money's really worthless, I'm pissing you off on purpose My nephew's situated, and my mama's straight So I'm ready for whatever drama should come our way And you fuckers rapping to me, so your drama is fake Y'all niggas is noodles, I got more fetti to bake Let's get it!