Prodigy of Mobb Deep, Big Noyd - Episodes of a Hustla lyrics

I'm the type of
Gentleman finessin Timberlands
Flippin like three grand
Cop a hundred grams goin hand and hand
Hennessy guzzlin, just motherfuckin hustlin
On the streets watchin police
In the gray caprice
Six Y trey gate, time to motivate
Those are the dz that like to squeeze
If you flip you gettin hit
With the four pound
Pull out your gat take out more rounds
3 against 1, thats how we go down
I can't get knocked, they tryin
To get the drop, damn shit is hot
Im watchin what they doin cuz they
Cruisin up the next block
Im hot with this chrome piece
But I don't need the position
Where I'm spittin at the motherfuckin police
I couldn't get caught, had
To leave New York, couldn't use my passport
Bitches hangin up in the airport
So yo bro, got to take the jetta
Whateva, I'm on the flow
Gotta get these ginos
Got a hundred grams of Coke bout to blow
Feel my cold pistol fully start spittin
I'm hittin and won't miss you
I'm official, Queensbridge murdera
Life gambalin especially
Professionally gat handlin
Call me V cuz I'mm vexed like a veteran
And better than whoever wanna Front
Let em step up in
Episodes of a hustla to all
You fake thug motherfuckers

Sittin back, the blunt steamin
Sippin heines and dreamin
Pushin keys in four wheelers
Flippin millions to billions
My style is extraordinary foul when
It come to grams
Im usin plans takin out the whole fam
You best to believe the trigga squeeze
Makin niggas bleed cross sea delivery
Pushin keys out of factories
Baby you sound good, blowin up in the hood
It's logical matter fact it's possible, I
Got my work bubblin
Me and my niggas jugglin
Cracks and strugglin while we hustlin
But with no question
We gonna survive to the fittest
Cuz we in this, style corrupt what the fuck
Life style like a menace
Child livin for rounds for Queensbridge era
I be bringin terror
The natural born hustla so yea whateva

A nigga try to bag me, he grabbed me
A nigga almost had me
I pulled out the banga and
Blew his ass badly, i'm nasty
Crazy mentality
Start a catastrophe livin life tragedy
You know you gettin jumped punk
There ain't no time for more than one
Tellin em son (They front
Smoke his ass like a Philly blunt)
Reach for my spine, pull out my nine
Cock it one time make him lay down
Don't move around cuz your ass mine
Gave a crook look got him shook
He on the floor flinchin
Now we bitchin and he snitchin, listen
I pistol whipped him
But to know the main fact
Is that I pushed his wig back then
Took off in the black AC' hook

Motherfucker, word up