Stole Something Lyrics - Blood Money - Mobb Deep

Woooh, yeah, you can get with this, or you can get with that 

I don't got to tell you hoe, you know I got that crack 

Three for the price of one, you know I have you comin' back 

You can have me a P.O. absolute, and it's a rap 

It's a fact, niggaz know, fuck with us you gettin' clapped 

No I won't, say your name, cause it just put you on the map 

And I ain't, into lettin' niggaz eat, no never that 

Shorty love the way I swing my game, I got a better bat 

Know I'm lethal with this rap shit, c'mon baby holla back 

Cut that juggler, you bleedin', no there ain't no stoppin' that 

I don't sleep, my eyes open, maybe a good powernap 

Spit a verse, then I eventually watch the cheddar stack 

I'm shittin' on niggaz, shittin' like it's a?? 

This a standin' ovation for homey, with a Tek clap 

F that, we takin' over baby, and that's that 

Catch me fuckin' with a bitch that can't stand rap 

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I get at niggaz like the stole from me, stole from me 

Their bank account lookin' like no money, no money 

There go police, shorty just hold for me, hold for me 

You want to work? Then pump this O for me, O for me 

Gunpowder resi' on the sleeve of my Pelle 

I had to burn my leather, and toss (My Buddy) 

Two hundred calls comin' in on my celly 

I had to cut the ringer, like "Fuck e'rybody" 

Drive the bulletproof all the way to Cali 

Lay low for a month or so - gettin' very 

High - where I'm goin' it gets my mind of the bones 

Back on the East Coast I bury 

Now I'm partyin' with Halle Berry 

This Hollywood shit'll catch you slippin' if you let it 

So niggaz started grillin' me 

Like they was gon' take my things, so I assumed I had to set it 

Now it's blood splashed all on the ice in my jewellery 

They don't know who did it, cause I did it smoothly 

Take my ass back to Queens 

It's not like I look for trouble, it seems trouble always finds me, then 

Photos 

Look, I got tons of old beef, and a brand new forty 

A hardcore groupie that would take a bullet for me 

A high-priced lawyer, just in case a nigga snap 

And can't take a joke, and pop a nigga over rap 

A horrible splatter in a matter of a second 

Dead over a record, shit he sound like he meant it 

My crew greater, yeah I'm talkin' to you hater 

I'm too major, two-tone blue gator 

New blazer, big gun, little razor 

So raise up, that ain't how your momma raised ya 

They wire-tappin' to hear somethin', they ear-hustlin' 

They won't bust him, why they came in and handcuffed him 

It's nothin', there's more 'mati's (automatics) at the spot 

One flat tire's gon' matter if they pop 

I pop up tomorrow with the wagon off the lot 

Stashbox, with the nine magnum with a wop