G.o.d Pt. Iii (cookin Soul Remix) Lyrics - Mobb Deep

Some of that 151, son, yeah, some of that bogus 

Aight, aiyyo, son, yo, yo 

You think that motherfuckin' nigga's out there right now, son? 

Word, what he doin' out here? 

Son, we got drama with that nigga 

Be tryin' to fuckin' front last week 

What, that kid out there? 

Yo, I seen that nigga earlier, knahmsayin'? 

Nah, fuck that, go, go open the window real quick, son 

Open that fuckin' window 

You gonna take him from the window, nigga? 

Yo, hold up, that, there go, that's that nigga right there, son 

Right next to the basketball court? 

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Yeah, yeah, that's the one 

Oh, shit, c'mere, c'mere, c'mere, c'mere, turn the lights out 

Turn the lights out, c'mon through 

Back up, back up, they lookin' 

Aiyyo, son, I'ma hit that nigga right now, son 

Word to Mom, I'ma hit him out the window, son 

Yo, you buggin', son, nah, chill 'Zo, fuck that 

I'ma hit that nigga right out the motherfuckin' window 

Hold up, you want somebody go bust him? 

Nah fuck, that I'ma hit this nigga out the window, son 

Ga head, man, shit, shit, shit, don't blow it up, duck down 

Yo, let me do it, man, let me do it, go 'head 

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, nigga, yeah 

Yeah, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, fucker, what? 

Pt. III 

QBC, sip lime Bacardi 

Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring 

Drama, we bring, yeah, that's a small thing 

Photos 

G.O.D., Father Pt. III 

QBC, sip lime Bacardi 

Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring 

Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing 

Awright, now pay attention to the crime rhyme Houdini P 

Keepin' you niggaz in perspective 

Mobb, representative, call me the specialist 

Professional professor at this rap science 

Up in the laboratory, here's why your small rhyme bore me 

Store bought rap ain't shit, my category 

Is that of an insane who strike back 

I draw first blood, it's over with and that's that 

You wanna square off, sayin' slice that cat? 

You get splashed from back of your head to ass crack 

Surgical signs to the end with iron map 

Which bring Apocalypse to this game called rap 

Not a game but quite serious and yo, in fact 

You'll be runnin' for dear life so far you might fall off the map 

Fuckin' with P, you need a gat 

At least to have the opportunity to bust back 

First shot, the motherfucker pack around world premier 

Shook individuals bound from blind fear 

Scared to death niggaz fall to they worst fear 

Horror tales in Braille for vision impaired 

You lookin' for P, well, you can find him everywhere 

In a project near you, I'll be right there 

I was brought up and taught to have no fear 

Live wire niggaz stay behind me in the rear 

Cowardly hearts step aside, stand clear 

My bloodthirsty niggaz got they eyes on you 

QBC, lime Bacardi, G.O.D. Father Pt. III 

On some hashish in Embassy Suite, crash your party 

Yo, it's the G.O.D., Father Pt. III 

QBC, sip lime Bacardi 

Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring 

Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing 

It's the, G.O.D., Father Pt. III 

QBC, sip lime Bacardi 

Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring 

Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing 

Yeah, yo, lime Bacardi, gettin' bent, crash the party 

Handle B-I, bringin' it to anybody 

Physical damage, crowd control handle cannons 

Hittin' you ripped, leave your bloodstream contamin-ed 

While you actin' out of character, we observin' 

Drillin' 'em down so hard, I know we felt it comin' at 'em 

Hennessey raps float like the Phantom 

Runnin' you up out of the spot in which you standin' 

Never second-guess a cat who hold gat 

Concealed but easily revealed and fast 

Body castin' raps to get your back snapped in half 

And severed, impossible pain beyond measure 

Sheisty livin' brought him to his last bread 

Life changed around quick to one stead 

Face full of fear, conquerin' your ice grill 

Tragedies, put him to sleep like NyQuil 

Givin' a overdose of this rap potent 

Potentially dangerous, fatally left open 

For the roaches, scavengers, that's EMS 

Funeral homes, anticipatin' your death 

That's the dead truth, check in the morgue 

You'll find proof enough to make you think and stop before 

Your ship sink to the bottom 

Night owl leave the mark and spot him 

You know the routine, face up before I shot him 

Yo, it's the G.O.D., Father Pt. III 

QBC, sip lime Bacardi 

Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring 

Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing 

G.O.D., Father Pt. III 

QBC, sip lime Bacardi 

Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring 

Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing 

It's the, G.O., Father Pt. III 

QBC, sip lime Bacardi 

Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring 

Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing 

G.O.D., Father Pt. III 

QBC, sip lime Bacardi 

Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring 

Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing 

What? Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah 

G.O.D., Father Pt. III, niggaz