Verse 1
[B-Legit]
Bitch I got beam like Scotty Leave you spotty
When I point this aim at your brain
And leave them hollow thangs in your body
Lodi-dodi I drinks Bacardi Gets dick hard drunk
When I'm off that skunk punk And you don't wanna dance tingo tango
I let my left right mingle mangle To your jaw southpaw
It oughta be a law against these thangs I throw
About to lay some shit down with Celly Cel and Bo
From the Garden Blocc Hillside got they Glock Mack 10's
Mobb shit'll neva end I'm tryin' to have it all
So I ball 'till I'm gold Mobbin' through a sixty usin' cruise control

Verse 2
[C-Bo]
I'm fuckin' wit that click nigga that big nigga on the block
With Glocks, Rag Tops cut thangs on them gold knocks
Better watch your back 'cuz we strapped with teks
Push up in a blue Lex' And dump caps to your neck
Mobb shit Bustaz all die Leather trench Brim and two nines
Costume of a killa At your bed side holdin' on two millas
Uggh we bust them teks close range Livin' estranged
Called insane 'Cuz when it's on it's on site no matter night or day
And you can't fuck wit these Get smothered with a half a key
Bitch

Verse 1
[Celly Cel]
Give me the ball and I'ma fill the lane like 'Fenney
Hardaway 'cuz I'm out to get every penny
Any nigga disrespectin' when I'm checkin' for my scrilla
I know'm stilla wig splittin' killa ain't no realla
Nigga realla than me Mobbin' through your hood and takin' heads
Slumpin' hangin out the windows dumpin' And shakin' 'Feds
So mind your own Cross the line and see how quick they gone
Head blown decapitated caught slippin' in my zone
Fuckin' with this Mobb shit Niggaz get they wig split

Verse 4
[C-Bo]
Uggh it's the murder man posted at the front door
And when they comes I dumps with both four-four's
Letin' 'em have it 'cuz I'm static Dumpin the grass
Killed his ass And then kneel down and get my last laugh
Punk bitch shouldn't have tripped Now he lay dead in the ditch
Ass ripped Suckin' on his own dick Money talk Bullshit walk
Fool this ain't no sunshine Three killas
One garden blocc, two hillside

[B-Legit]
This shit's fucked and I am tag teamin' with the murder man
And that'll hurt a man Niggaz doin' dirt and
All you got to do is hop your ass in my 'Cut
We'll be back tomorrow mornin' Cell, you comin' or what?
I got this gut feelin' About to make the killin' for a livin'
The contract said the nigga wore a wire tap
And they want him dead A hundred G's for his head
And leave a bloody glove down where that body bled

Celly Cel:
Red rum is what I'm hummin' as I hit the fence
Homicide looked for prints but found no evidence
Stuffed his head in the duffel bag and zipped it up
Them ballas want to see his face before they break us off a cut
There it is cashed him like some chips at Reno
Slid us a briefcase full of crispy ass C-Notes Made the hit
Got the scrilla Gone without a trace B behind the wheel
And Bo Loc cuffed to the briefcase
Yo' nigga Cell got the chopper 'case they on my trail
If it's a tail then I'ma leave a 50 empty shells
Pistol smokin' These niggaz know we ain't no jokin'
Split up the tokens And I'm back in the hood loccin'
Fuckin' with this Mobb shit
Niggaz get they wig split

B-Legit:
Yeah, like a real hillside strangler, yola slanger, tryin to get a
buck but if I'm fucked in the gas chamber.
The autopsy red, them niggaz had some heat fo yo ass.
And never leave your block without your glock, clip and mask.
Haters hatin but its all game related and that's what we do bitch