Raekwon, Uncle Murda, Busta Rhymes - Stick Up Music lyrics

It's Flipmode bitch! Categorize my
Word as gospel yEAH!

Yo! I offer niggas the encouragement
While I give you the nourishment
I put niggas on punishment
Y'all niggas is trash but I
Offer the streets the supplements
Takin over the block now I'm
Tryin to control the government
(SAY WHAT!) Got these niggas
Pissin they mattresses
The God is back nigga get
The deliverin my packages!
Now I'm back from LA all access
It's that nigga back from the
Oscars after fuckin some actress-es
While I give you the
Seasonin and there recipes
Over the music they sound like
Sticker from in the seventies
While sippin 'nac that make niggas
Hiccup and spit for centuries
Of course the ratchet they click
Up and my enemies
The way I flood the streets
You know the flava good
I'm a stash some of the coke and
Cause a drought up in the neighborhood
I'm only in the streets to feed a nigga
Regardless what you think the game
Will always need a nigga
(yeah! Might as well mortalize me
Into a statue nigga)

Yeah, let's go love
I wear a MEAAAN dark pair of shades
Janglin bats back in the days, I wore braids
Runnin with solicitors, grizzlies
Monkey business prisoners
Livin Uptown with scales inside wall ridges
Y'know we network our ass off
Slabs of salt, dynamite sticks from bricks
Fiends gas off blowin sellin dope
Runnin to the vault pass off
Play wit my paper, write your little ass off
Stylin cause I know how to dress
Learned it from Jamacians who stressed the
Building lights and gallons of cess
We play rock star hard
Every big bangle we mangle (uh huh)
Mad dog wit the uzi named King Tango
Fishin for riches, mission is to dig bitches
(yep)
Hide from the NARCs', Clarks on blue cases
You know we love you like cook food
Matta fact
Cook cocaine, never drainin the good mood

(Hold up! Hold up! Hold up) Chill
Chill nigga
Damn! (What's goin on? Y'all tryna make a song WIT'OUT ME?)
I ain't get enough fuckin wreck, man!
(I'm on this, GOBBS, what's goin on?)

I get that fatty, I got that hammer
I die for that bread man
That's word to my grandma (GRANDMA)
I kill for it too, that's word to my lil' man
(Oh) i risk my freedom for him
Send me to prison man i gotta get it man
(I do) , Look, by any means necessary
Pop a nigga while I'm robbin
Him if it's necessary (bang)
Yeah - gimme the loot, gimme the loot
He was like, "Aight Murda, don't shoot
Don't shoot (Don't MOVE)
No head shots
Please don't shoot me in my head
It ain't that serious
I ain't tryna die for that bread (What?)
I don't want no beef, man take my burna
I'mma put the word out
No more hatin on Murda (They hatin)
You get weed on my block, all of dem man
I did it for 26, you can charge me 40 a grand
(Aight, I got it)
I know what beef is and I don't want it, son
I'm serious
I don't care if I sound corny son"
(You DO doe, Damn! My Philly cap gone)