Mobb Deep, Big Noyd - Double Shots lyrics

[Mobb Deep, Big Noyd - Double Shots lyrics]

It's a celebration y'all, let's do it!

Yeah y'all bounce, yeah, bounce
YEAH! Aight? Aiyyo

Cats like, "Hav', what the deal Dunn?"
Nigga back on his grind, tryin to kill son
A little shorty on some shit
Oh she still frontin?
But jumped back on the dick
When she saw me thumpin
Straight short nigga oxin niggas
Givin 'em doctor stitches
First chance I get, you know I'm shittin
On them fake-ass thugs, stuntin in the club
Don't get scuffed in front of these broads
Homey so pussy, what they do to they broad
Beat them bitches up if they
Dance to the Mobb type of shit is that?
That won't stop her from lettin
Us blow her back, bounce to that
Homey we got this locked
Like champagne in a wino hand
We gon' pop and
Hate on you lame-ass niggas, we need not
Cause first niggas hate on us, they get shot

Just party, don't get yourself shot (uh huh)
Leave all the drama back home at the block
At the bar double shots goin down
Straight chillin
While the DJ, playin what I'm feelin
(pimpin them hoes)

Yeah, aiyyo
I'm - permanently bugged, genuinely thugged
I'm hot-blooded
Don't have me with the snub
All at you with the
Bullets that spray pellets, you fucked
And I'm back up on shorty
With the hourglass cut
We got mountains and we gon'
Have a smokefest son
C'mon, feel like Vegas
We bringin home used paper
Ain't it amazin I'll stretch
How we keep bangin we got thousands to spend
On them drinks gangsta
Queensbridge, Mobb Deep like terrorists
We come through, blow shit up, America's
Nightmares right here live in the flesh
Our blood and bone be sittin
In Ferraris and better
We out in LA we drive our own cars
They not renters
And take flights back home to hop
Up in some next shit
While you tryin to get your hand on some cash
We never gotta touch money again
We got plas-tic

Feel that nigga, yeah okay yo, aiyyo
Aiyyo we ain't gotta lay
We can bang it out neighbor
Shit, 'til them fuckin flamers
Empty out player
Cause boy I thought you knew
Don't confuse me with the music
I'm on loadin nines up, ridin up, shootin it
I'm hotter than the corner on
The ave out in Newark i'm grimy
You find me where the loot is with Lugers
The bodies, the hotties
The hustlers and the shooters
With dudes that'll cut ya
That's what eatin your food is
Fools know the rules pull out
Your tools better buck it
Cause niggas be flaggin and braggin when
They cut up your nugget
Knee deep in the grind like "fuck it"
We gotta keep it real son that's only
How the people gon' love it
And learn to respect the Infamous
To the death kid we on another level
Yeah we really on some next shit
Got the techs spittin and
Makin more connections
Makin more cash and blastin more weapons

Interpretation for


Add Interpretation

Add extended interpretation

If you know what the artist is talking about, can read between the lines, and know the history of the song, you can add interpretation to the lyrics. After checking by our editors, we will add it as the official interpretation of the song!

Latest added interpretations to lyrics

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Interpret