I mean post the scene of the caper, Like a loc, with little Ceas’ in a choke (uh), Toting smoke, we ain’t no mother$#@*in’ joke, Thug Life, %&@! *s better be known, Be approaching, In the wide open, gun smoking, No need for hoping, It’s a battle lost, I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off, $%#^@, I hit ’em up [Outro – 2Pac] Now you tell me who won, I see them, they run (ha ha), They don’t wanna see us, Whole Junior Mafia clique, Dressing up trying to be us, How the #$%@ they gonna be the Mob? When we always on out job, We millionaire’s, Killing ain’t fair, But somebody got to do it.
Oh yah Mobb Deep (uh), You wanna #$%@ with us, You Little young @%$ mother#$! ^ers, Don’t one of you ? got sickle-cell or something, You’re fucking with me, %^&@#? You #%?! around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack, You better back the #$%! Up, Before you get smacked the %&^@ up, This is how we do it on our side, Any of you %#! &@s from New York that want to bring it, Bring it. But we ain’t singing, We bringing drama, *&^$ you and your mother mama. We’re gonna kill all you mother ^($#ers. Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie.
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother ? #@$ing opinion, Well this is how we gonna’ do this: &%#$ Mobb Deep, &%#$ Biggie, &%#$ Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother &%#$ing crew. And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, Then &%#$ you too. Chino XL, &%#$ you too. All you mother &%#$ers, &%#$ you too. (take money, take money) All of y’all mother &%#$ers, &%#$ you, die slow mother&%#$er. My four four (. 44 magnum) make sure all your kids don’t grow. You mother&%#$ers can’t be us or see us.
Parent - Teenager Relationships Parents are fragile things. There is a very fine line between approval and disapproval with most parents. No teenager I know ever seems to do anything right by their mum or dad. My mother always nags me to do things like clean my teeth, tidy my room, do my homework blah blah... It's probably the same with many other teenagers out there. When asked why parents nag ...
We mother &%#$in’ Thug Life riders. West Side till’ we die. Out here in California, ! &%#$, We warned ya’, We’ll bomb on you mother &%#$ers. We do our job. You think you the mob, %$? #@, we the mother&%#$in’ mob, Ain’t nothing but killers, And the real &%#! @s, all you mother&%#$ers feel us. Our $#! % goes triple and four quadruple, You ! &%#$s laugh ’cause our staff got guns under they mother&%#$in’ belts, You know how it is and we drop records they felt, You ! &%#$s can’t feel it, We the realist, &%#$ ’em. We Bad Boy killers.