Men Of Business - Cuban Link

Now these funny niggaz is actors, they in movies

Straight characters, Lookin' like «Winnie the poohie»

Who the only rap cat that really sell crack?, got gunz

Shit that push ya forehead back, Yeah!

You fuck my bitch and I’ll fuck yours

But yours gave me head, she ain’t see my bed

Thats why, I’ll never do a song with you

It’s like y’all niggaz got a thong on you, whats wrong with you?

And we ain’t even gotta have beef

We can drink malt liquour and smoke a lil' leaf

N.o.r.I'm slick like nunile grease

Cuba.german Luger with the silencer piece

Queens nigga, copped the whole crib, no lease

Ya see 'Pone in the Benz with the brand new rims

A.m.g kit, half of y’all niggaz is off sick

I suggest don’t come to the game, just forfeit…

(Lord Tariq)

Niggaz know betta than this, a verteran at pedellin' bricks

Caked up but still hungry, can’t settle for shit

Half past eleven in the ghetto is sick

I saw a nigga from the bricks, sell a rev' in a nic'

And where I’m from, It’s infested with magicians and tricks

And you ain’t shit unless a nigga whippin' a six

Gettin' 'em sick with many bitches lickin' the dick

Runnin' with niggaz and spiks who really living this shit

And these young niggaz thinkin' they invented this shit

Because they got a few dollars and his pendant is slick

Shit I hit the club, ten g’s spend it and split

Nigga had five thou', can’t rent him a chick

I ain’t rich but the way we livin is it, venomous lips

Gettin' me chips and gettin' me drips, enter this shit

Infinite hits, hangin' with Bloods and spittin' with crips

Dump a clip in the click and ended this shit…

(Cuban Link)

Yeah. Y’all motherfuckers gotta stop frontin'

Before I count in, Block back and pop sumthin'

Not for nuthin', y’all rock but not enough to lock with us son, i’m hot

Bustin' like a shotgun pump, my squad don’t front

Y’all pop shit, we pop the trunk

So what ya want punk? I stomp, gone from the bronx to Hong Kong

Your lone gone now, coz y’all got souped up like wantang

I drop bombs and murder beats, burn 'em to the third degree

Y’all hearda me, the first to preform open mic surgery

Verbally ill, words built to purpously kill

Why y’all herbs still kickin' nursery rhymes, I’m worth a mil'

So what the deal boy? I WritE the real and the say what I feel

SO grab ya steel tec', its evil when I play fight, I play for real

I’m from the 'vills where they torch coffins

In front of ya grlls like George Forman

Ain’t no talkin' to the law enforcements

We all be flossin' through New York, walkin' in slow motion

Four horsemen style, talk loud and getcha jaw broken…

(Kool G. Rap)

Yo we walk dead in these streets, stalk with lead in the heat

Guerilla niggaz willin' to kill for the bread and the meat

Niggaz starvin' with their ribs showin', ready to eat

When shit get hot, fuck the cops, it be feds on the beat

Not the one to give a speech baby, we let metal speak

Way ahead of the beef, Wet him from his head to his feet

In a pool of red, bloodshed, spreadin' from a leak

Another fool dead, mug red, stretched up on the beach

Four hundred thousand, get recruited, general saluted

Infinite guns, spit for the ones, shit go down and i’ma flip for my duns

Cop a load of bricks in the tonnes, and push a big whip in the slums

The quicker they come, the swifter they plunge

Leave 'em to rot on a dark block, hollow tip fifth in they lung

Or catch an ear to ear rip and get hung

From just a single slip of the tongue

Bust’em, leave 'em twisted and done…

(Billy Danze)

Now let me take you motherfuckers on a wild ride

Which is worldwide, on the wild side, homicide side

Where a lot of serial killers have died

I’m one of the few with a will to survive, you

Know this metal fist nigga never choke up

Spit venom in 'em and open 'em up

The game Non stop. (Lil' Fame) niggaaa…

Til' everybody shot. (Lil' Fame) niggaaa!

Til' everybody drop. (Lil' Fame) niggaaa!

I will catch your ass five years later

Rite there at ya crib gettin' on the elavator

Creep up on you like I’m kin to Darth Vader, then unload the fader

Keepin' extra clips for that one couragous neighbour

That got visions of being a fuckin' «Power Ranger», (Lil' Fame) Blaaoow!

Motherfucker see ya later…

(M.O.P.) Bukkabukkabukkabukka… Clack… like whoa…

(Lil' Fame)

I bring the beef hard for you, have y’all shittin' in y’all drawers

I’ma show you motherfuckers the meanin' of star wars

Pop sumthin' straight through ya, Grrraam bam bootah!

I don’t give a motherfuck who ya are, What the fuck y’all think?

This is Cuban Link, M.O.P, G Rap, Lord Tariq, N.O.R.E

End of story, get the fuck off me

I have ya niggaz open like you drank twenty gallons of Starbucks coffee

This is, from B. K to B. X, Queens, and I’m uptown

Body shot, shotty shot, God he shot sixteen slugs!

I could shut one hammer, blow your ass out like sixteen candles,

too hard to handle

Check this, play large and get one large inside of your large intestine

Now ask yourself, what the fuck is this?

M.O.P., M.O.B, Men of business, hahaaaaaa…