Click Click Lyrics - Blood Money - Mobb Deep

We get that paper baby boy, it's easy 

You want to be who? You can't be me 

Shorty gave me that ass on GP 

Rollin' in a G-500, or the Porsche, roof open 

And I know that you're hopin' that I fall real soon 

But I ain't goin' nowhere, hate to bust your balloon 

And there ain't that much room for all us 

Limited space, the game like a tour bus 

I won't break, I just take, take and take 

Rape and rape, the game til there's no more cake 

Snitch ass niggaz givin' up identities 

They soft like ice cream, sweeter than Ben & Jerry's 

Like??, leavin' nowhere to be found but buried 

The gun won't fail me, the money won't leave me 

Stop schemin' on me baby, it ain't that easy 

Niggaz leave prints cause their palms so greasy 

Their mind read easy, I see right through 'em 

The AK'll do em, like nobody?? 'em 

Stop, it's best that you keep it movin', you'll get shot 

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We ain't lickin' niggaz, we ain't bustin' shots in the air 

No warnin' shots, the fuck out of here 

Oh man homey, hate to do you like this 

Oh man homey, when the tooley go click, click, click 

It's the young high-roller, the talk of New York 

David got my neck lookin' like a lightning bolt 

I'm in that two-door Range Stormer 

My truck plush, and the wheels are the size of rims on a school bus 

I need that Bill Gates money, that's fifty-one billion 

Six hundred ki's, that's fifty-one million 

Me and 50 in Hollywood, with Quincy Jones 

Since the Feds bought Nextel, I trashed my phone 

Listen homes, everything glisten homes 

Yeah my gun and my rims both sit on chrome 

You move your weight in the car, I move weight by the carload 

I dropped in Marcy in a Murcielago 

My connect is a Cuban named Flaco 

With my aim, you a human taco 

Meetin' shells, yo the feds tryin' to peep our sales 

My daughter grow up, she in Harvard and Yale, yeah 

Photos 

You see me rollin', Mack-10 showin' out the window 

When you catchin' me shootin' out the coup, then switch your lane 

You don't want me creepin' two miles an hour, with my seat low 

Cause I'll hop up out the roof with fully-autos 

and embed it in your brain 

It's like fee, fie, foe, fum, I smell the blood of a jealous ass punk 

One, two, three hundred shots 

Fittin' to ring off them things off, and cook the block 

Old people, the pets and the kids 

Whoever in the way, them strays gon' hit 

And we don't give a fuck about the police nigga 

This ain't Manhattan, this Queens nigga 

We're immune to the violence, it's nothin' to me 

Fuck 'em - they don't give a fuck about P 

If they could kill me, believe me, they would 

That's why I set it off, and I get 'em real good 

When them street, lights, come on nigga 

You best, have, your gun on nigga 

Cause tonight we ride (Growl) and you die (Growl) 

As soon as I walk up, or drive-by