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murda murda - prodigy of mobb deep lyrics

[intro: prodigy]
yeah, yeah
f*ckin’ cold out here
f*ckin’ hungry right now, man
let’s go get sumthin’ to eat, son
some n*ggas holdin’ over there
(yeah, yeah) say we take that (yeah, yeah, come on, son)
yeah
(thirsty too) yeah, yeah, yo

[verse 1: prodigy]
n*gga this banana clip p not that other bullsh*t
this is the purest dope there is
i don’t like fiction
if it’s not facts i don’t f*ck with the sh*t
and that’s how i live and with that bein’ said, f*ck with p you get dead
i keep three thousand in the pocket of my pants
ey week the haze, i smoke seven grams
ey day i wake i’m proud of who i am, i’m a gangsta and million dollar business man
i’m a soldiеr, a leader, it’s p the don
i hop out on n*ggas whеn i catch ’em in my world and still make it to my meeting at vibe com
i’m a threat to the safety of your well*bein’
you wanna be on our side ’cause we feedin’ the animals
vultures and hyenas
them other n*ggas servin’ that mad cow disease sh*t
[chorus: prodigy & tony yayo]
yeah, i’m a soldier
and i’m a k!ller
it’s murda murda
we pull the trigger
guerilla unit
yeah we a problem
if you don’t want it
don’t get it started
yeah, i’m a soldier
and i’m a k!ller ([?] n*gga)
it’s murda murda ([?] motherf*ckin’ house [?] buy [?] car n*gga)
we pull the trigger
guerilla unit (my moneys long, c*cksucker)
yeah we a problem
if you don’t want it (yo)
don’t get it started

[verse 2: tony yayo]
you get knocked lil homie, baby mom’s ain’t gon’ write chu
and you can catch aids if the wrong fiend bite you
fifty grams of crack
that’s conspiracy
a kilo and a mac (twenty*five years, n*gga you scared)
that’s a century, i roll with hard rock n*ggas straight from the slums
with the heart of iracs throwin’ rocks at them guns, you we stack funds
pop corks and bottles and we in every hood like (mickey d’s, n*gga) ronald mcdonald, listen i’m rich b*tch
just from spittin’ in the booth so the house in miami is hurricane proof, i’m the truth
the phantom turn your wife to a hooker
that’s why i chop the top like your neighborhood butcher
[outro: tony yayo]
f*ck n*gga
house in miami (ya’ll n*ggas get some paper, man), hurricane proof, c*cksucker
that’s money, n*gga (just copped a million dollar crib, n*gga)
p (only [?] [?] [?])
los vegas p

- prodigy of mobb deep lyrics

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