Solidified Lyrics - Free Agents: The Murda Mixtape - Mobb Deep

(Prodigy) 

Yeah you know the shit don't stop, never, never 

As we continue on 

With more of this drama for yo' ass 

{"She asked me why."} 

You niggaz always startin somethin 

and beefin with rappers, why our music so violent 

and so dramatic, where's the love? 

Why y'all go so much static 

Is it real for real or all for sales? 

I'm like, "Shorty you must be sick" 

We been gettin burned like the Waco kids 

I don't need to diss rappers for recognition 

You better check the files: Infamous, Hell on Earth, Murda Muzik 

You can't be SE-RIOUS 

We created this drama shit, we set the trend 

We taught you niggaz bout diamonds and guns 

And numerous ways we choose to earn funds 

We veterans, we got a decade of albums 

Niggaz done came and went, and we still poppin 

Our name is carved in stone 

Even the new blood know, we ain't no joke so 

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(Chorus) 

Let us solidify this - what's that? 

We been solidified this - but of course! 

Lot of new rappers and young kids - uh-huh 

They all love +The Infamous+ - but of course! 

We been for this music Dunn - c'mon man! 

Who do it better than us? - c'mon man! 

Who continue to bang and bump? That's right 

{"She asked me why."} 

(Havoc) 

I ride around the crib 'fore I get out twice 

without the headlights, case niggaz know my whereabouts 

Wanna, snuff me out, I ain't finished with life 

I'ma, thug it out, front you payin the price 

And I'm a nigga who can roll the dice, put up the crib 

Won't sweat if I lose, bet your ass won't live 

to collect this splurge of mines, never that 

I'm a sore loser the (?), reverse with hammers 

Hit your mans up if they press the issue 

Some dead, the other half crippled, and I'm a monster with led 

Lodge a slug in your abdomen, puts in the 7 

Knowin in the stash box a rapper's best friend 

Get it twisted and you WILL get twisted with chrome biscuits 

Make no difference my nigga, we handle business 

So please with the questions they right in, front of your face 

Homey stunt he gettin to' from the gate, so 

Photos 

(Chorus) 

(Prodigy) 

Nigga that you used to click with turned on you 

Idiots you used to rap with hatin on you 

Did you really get juxed for half a mill' in jewels 

at the video shoot? I tell you this boo-boo: 

My stick-o's still my stick-o 

My stick man be my stick man 'til the tombstone (mmm, mmm) 

You got rhymes? You got stomach for the Mobb? 

You got stomach for P? I get my rocks off 

(Havoc) 

Believe nothin that you hear and only half of what you see 

Niggaz never cooked in the kitchen and never clapped heat 

Niggaz wanna be thugs but on the inside so sweet 

Niggaz butches on they records but they never handle beef 

Know nothin bout golden seal, seein your P.O. 

Gave a dirty urine now you're snuffin a C.O. 

Fuckin right, I'm a man of the people but I will kill you 

If you cock-blockin the paper the shit'll get real dude (so) 

(Chorus)