U Don`t Know Remix Lyrics

U Don`t Know Remix lyrics

(feat. M.O.P.)

[Lil Fame]
Time to duck, fire
Duck, fire, duck,
fire
Duck, fire, duck, FIYAAAAAAAHHH!

(U Don't know what you're
doing, doing, doing, doing)

It's the MOP (Yes)
1, 1, 2, 3, 3
And
motherfucker we comin, 100 miles and gunnin
I'm still runnin with cash
that's robbed
From the era of exhale 80's and hats back stomp
(SAME
GAME!) operation for this industry lockdown
We still tote hammers that go
BLOCKOWWWW
Run up if you wanna, believe me dog
These hammers with they
owners, fuck ya G up
Have ya with blue 'jamas in a coma, and
Ya family
now moan, look, 70 pounds gone
A little fuck, scribbled up with a hospital
down on
(WE HOLDIN IT DOWN HOLMES!)keep pushin weak frail bastards
To get
over, we prowl with slimmer re-shelled tactics
Jiminy frail bastards, your
tracks need tune-ups
No limit, what the fuck, recordin for nig'
junior
(The game aint changed)it just got harder
Plus we sponsored by
laz' Dame Dash and Mr. S. Carter
Brownsville(yep), we stomp in this bitch
all day
Rock with my cock out, face the crowd and piss off
stage

[Billy Danze]
Uh, Uh, Uh, I'm from the G side of
thangs
Where we ride and bang, where the heat died of flame
That's how we
got the name(WARRIORS!)
And better than ya bank, and someone should be tellin
'em
The veterans have came, and we're better in the game
(YOU BETTER MAKE
IT RAIN!) "27 grams" my man
It's better than cocaine, now everything will
change
In this family we'll rule the world
And you haters can eat a dick
up till you hiccup and erm
A decade on the grind, nigga I paid mine
So
it's my time to shine and for you can ride the pine
I wont sit back and rap
like these dumb ass kids
I been around, I put it down, I aint these young
ass kids
(MOP!) The OG's repped and survived around this
motherfucka
(FIRST FAMILY!) We kept it live around this motherucka
When
it's crunch time, we do it our wizzay
For shizzle my nigga, learn to grip
pistols and BK

[Jay-Z]
WHOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Turn my music high, high,
high, high-er
Mo' fire, mo' problems, more Roc-a-wear attire
Mo' money,
mo' murder now that M.O.P.'s hired
Mo' murder for the ROC empire, ya'll wont
surface
Ya'll nervous knowin them guns on full service, ready to fire
One
body, two body, three body, four
Young sittin on paper, I'm above the
law
Young shittin on haters, I aint fuckin with ya'll
For my Brownsville
neighbors, How About Some Hardcore?
And it just get worser, every time I
write my signature in cursive
Just add another million to these
verses
One million, two million, three million, four
And the money's
really worthless, I'm pissing you off on purpose
My nephew's situated, and
my mama's straight
So I'm ready for whatever drama should come our
way
And you fuckers rappin to me, so your drama is fake
Ya'll niggas is
noodles, I got more fetti to bake
Let's get it!