Mobb Deep

Mobb Deep - Drop A Gem On Em lyrics

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Livin the life that of diamonds and guns
 and now gems pulls gats
 like a basehead pulls on stems
 the Mobb got the bomb run out and tell a friend
 Drop A Gem On Em..

 Verse One: Havoc

 Take a tire  all these fake crooks need to retire
 they gotcha gassed  takin back and snatch fire outcha
 maggot ass  Havoc represent for the Q B C
 smoke that ass like a lucie..tho I need to quit
 fuck it, I love it like a cloud
 over the projects your game Im above it
 its combat, gats bangers and all that
 you'se a small cat, whatever you on get off that
 I mention, nuthin but the real shit presentin
 the hollow tip crew 41st side convention
 try for? you half-steppin
 like a fresh tec out of the box
 yo niggas I'm testin
 (There's no question)
 bitch ass have you confessin
 like a D-T left in state of depression
 you under pressure, intact no doubt catcher
 the snitch-snatcher tookin wit asthma
 you casper, you yell my name
 thats only givin me props
 plus the fans that you got, wonderin whats got you hot
 its too not, knocked out the box and got rocked
 got raped on the Island, you officially got
 kick that thug shit, Vibe magazine on some love shit
 (keep it real kid, you don't know who you fuckin wit)

 Chorus: repeat 2X

 It's the Infamous back in the house once again
 Livin the life that of diamonds and guns
 and now gems pull gats like a basehead pull on stems
 the Mobb got the bomb run out and tell a friend
 Drop A Gem On Em

 Verse Two: Prodigy

 Yeah likewise, Im tired of rap guys whose faggots
 pure shuteye, and swole up your whole outside
 I baptize, niggas get wet, put up your backside
 your claptized and set straight, put on your head straight
 watch out for,
 these upstate cats be leary of you
 yeddy niggas wit gats plus the walls on they backs
 Rikers Island flashback of the house you got scuffed it in
 you would think you gettin your head shot was enough but then
 Now you wanna got at my team,
 you must of been drunk when you wrote that shit
 too bad you had to did it to your own self
 my rebellion, I retaliate, I had the whole New York state
 aimin at your face
 at the gate, bottom line of top soon as you came through
 shot through, don't even know the half of my crew
 I got a hundred strong arm niggas ready to rock the shit
 clocks tick, your days are numbered in low digits
 you look suspicious, suspect niggas is bitches
 get chppoed up, Grade A meat, somethin delicious
 and laced back up, 2 G's, one for stitches
 then reconstruct your face and learn how to speak again
 my Mobb's like a bunch of wild Puerto Ricans
 wit bangers the size of African spears
 it's warfare in the arena, you turn arenas into house of horrors
 its terrodome, when you see my click you need to run behind shit
 you gotta gat you betta find it
 and use that shit think fast and get reminded
 of robberies in Manhattan you knew what happened
 60 g's and one for gun clappin
 Who Shot Ya? You'd probably scream louder than an opera
 New York gotcha, now you wanna use my mob as a crutch
 what makes you think you cant get bucked again
 Once again, back in the house once again
 live the life that of diamonds and guns
 and now gems pull gats like a basehead pull on stems
 the Mobb got the bomb run out and tell a friend
 Its the Infamous
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: Albert Johnson

Composer: ?

Publisher: BMG Entertainment

Details:

Released in: 1996

Language: English

Appearing on: Hell on Earth (1996)

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