Mobb Deep, Big Noyd - Just Step (Prelude) lyrics
[Mobb Deep, Big Noyd - Just Step Prelude lyrics]
Yo, son, tell 'em about that bullshit
They put you through
Yo, son, word is bond, dunn
Sometimes I wish I had three different faces
I'm going to court for three
Cases in three places
One in Queens, Manhattan, one in Brooklyn
The way things is looking
I'ma see central bookings
Facing three 3-to-9's is mad time
After ran concurrent for assault and 2-9's
I gotta maintain 'cause stress on the brain
Can lead to a motherfucking suicide thang
And plus my probation, a ill violation
How the fuck did I get
In this tight situation?
I'm going all out, you know
Moves I never fake and fuck the jake
They can catch me at my wake
And if I die, burn a bag of blade
Put the lye in the air
Sometimes I just don't care
Son, I got plans, power movements
Get on some rude shit
I keep living like this, I might lose it
My man's coming home from
Doing long ass bids what up
Kiko? I ain't seen your ass
Since we was kids
It's all strange my niggas locked
Down thinking long range
And see their names in the
Daily News third page
They sent a kite to my nigga Killer
It only took one sword to put
Seven holes in his squealer
A 3-to-9 spending most of his
Time inside the bing
Reclined, and still came home with his shine
They put you through
Yo, son, word is bond, dunn
Sometimes I wish I had three different faces
I'm going to court for three
Cases in three places
One in Queens, Manhattan, one in Brooklyn
The way things is looking
I'ma see central bookings
Facing three 3-to-9's is mad time
After ran concurrent for assault and 2-9's
I gotta maintain 'cause stress on the brain
Can lead to a motherfucking suicide thang
And plus my probation, a ill violation
How the fuck did I get
In this tight situation?
I'm going all out, you know
Moves I never fake and fuck the jake
They can catch me at my wake
And if I die, burn a bag of blade
Put the lye in the air
Sometimes I just don't care
Son, I got plans, power movements
Get on some rude shit
I keep living like this, I might lose it
My man's coming home from
Doing long ass bids what up
Kiko? I ain't seen your ass
Since we was kids
It's all strange my niggas locked
Down thinking long range
And see their names in the
Daily News third page
They sent a kite to my nigga Killer
It only took one sword to put
Seven holes in his squealer
A 3-to-9 spending most of his
Time inside the bing
Reclined, and still came home with his shine