Prodigy of Mobb Deep, A$ton Matthews - 1 Minute To Pray lyrics

Hit the set from out the door, aw yeah
They hit the corner, hit the floor, aw yeah
Then hit the corner, hit the morgue, aw yeah
Cause none them shots gon' hit the board
Aw yeah

It get brazy in the turf doe
Chunky ass 40 turn them track
Feet to turf toe
Lip, get a fistful, brains, get a clip full
You know how this shit go
You know how this shit go
Looney Gangstas catch you slippin'
You know how this shit go
Double burger with the cheese
You know how this shit go
Cause I'm a foolie wit it
Fully wit it, snubby got the scottie pippin
Jump it like I'm shuttlesworth, SWISH
With a cup full of that buttersworth, YEAH
This hell on earth is what we made our worth
The land of the free, home of the brave
Now half the homies gone in a
Cage and most in a grave now pussy
We ain't never took that shit lightly
But you can bet we flip your bitch nightly
Hold the handle to that fifth tightly
That paranoia, eek!, that paranoia, eek!
Granny said that there never be
A heaven for ya referring to me
My vision bout as blurred as can be
Lord forget it I'm a sinner
Have your mercy on me
We herdin' the sheep while the devil
Whisper words in my sleep
Now your hands to your feet so
Watch the words that you speak
Bullet holes through your fleece look like
The mark of the beast
Dropping bodies next to all them
Tire marks in the street
Like it's regular, it is around this way
They pull up, hop out
And make funerals out ya hood day

Pop pop pop pop yeah yeeeeah!
I come for blood
Who wanna be the first dummy
Get that ass fired up
Weird nigga got his life liq'd, Yeah
He was on the corner with them demons
You know that's what that life get
Thought he was stone cold block made of iron
This nigga just a soft, warm, piece of shit
Lyin
I'm gonna take him out back and get started
A kidney four grand
A spleen is twelve hundred
Nigga got his slum dog chain
His shit is fake
Watch busta, fake thug busta
Don't trust'em
6 AM we still lookin' for ya
Parked right outside
We still lookin' for ya
Escape New York it's not for you
Try something more laid back
That's more safe escape LA it's not for you
Try somewhere more remote
Like far away nigga
I am the danger you worry 'bout
I'm the type your father told
You not to hang around
I'm the type your mother
Told you be cautious now hiding in the crib
Scared and you nauseous
I find out where you live
That shit gettin' torched
I don't give a fuck who
In it that's your fault
Yeah your bitch know your pussy now, aw man
She gon' give that pussy out, aw damn