About This Track
"Give Up the Goods (Just Step)" is a track by Mobb Deep, from the album The Mix Tape Volume 1: 60 Minutes of Funk, released 25th April 1995. Full lyrics are available below.
Lyrics
[Intro: Prodigy & Big Noyd] Word up, man, you know what I'm sayin'? So I be tellin' these niggas, man Shit ain't a game, man Tell 'em, dunn, man Let them niggas know, man Shit is real, kid, word up Know what I'm sayin'? Shit is definitely real, boy Yeah, we tryna get this loot anyway, man [Verse 1: Prodigy] A-yo, Queens get the money, long time no cash I'm caught up in the hustle where the guns go blast The fool retaliated, so I had to think fast Pull out my heat first, he pull out his heat last Now, who the fuck you think is livin' to this day? I'm tryna tell these young niggas crime don't pay They looked at me and said, "Queens niggas don't play" Do your thing, I'll do mine, kid, stay outta my way It's type hard tryna survive in New York state But can't stop 'til I'm eatin' off a platinum plate Po-po comes around and tries to relocate me Lock me up forever, but they can't deflate me 'Cause havin' cash is highly addictive Especially when you're used to havin' money to live with I pause, step back, look at my life as a whole Ain't no love, it seems the devil done stole my soul I'm out for delfia, selfia, P's not helpin' ya I'm tryna get this Lexus up, plus a cellular Yo, Big Noyd (What up, cousin?) I can't cope with all these crab niggas tryna shorten my rope [Verse 2: Big Noyd] Yo, it's the R-A-double-P-E-R N-O-Y-D Niggas can't fuck with me! Comin' straight outta QB, pushin' the Infiniti You ask can I rip it constantly? Mentally? Definitely To the death of me, come and test me Trust me, nigga can't touch me if he snuffed me So bust me, you're gonna have to 'cause I'ma blast you My lyrical like a miracle, ill spiritual I'm born with it, I'm gettin' on with it And I'ma have it 'til I'm fuckin' dead and gone with it 'Cause I'm a what? Composer of hardcore, a lyrical destructor Don't make me buck ya, 'cause I'm a wild motherfucker You know I flow, you know my steelo Even pack my gat when I go to see my P.O. Jump out my hooptie, pass my gat and my lucci to my shorty In case my P.O. try to troop me to the Island, and if I start wildin' Flippin' on niggas walkin' around with the nice gold medallions But she didn't violate me, so I escaped, see? Back to Queens, pumpin' the fiends, makin' more C.R.E.A.M. Know what I mean? I'm a natural born hustler Won't try to cut ya, pull out my .44 and bust ya [Verse 3: Havoc] Yo, ain't no time for fakin' jax 'Cause brothers that fake jax get laid on they backs The streets is real, can't roll without steel I feel how I feel 'cause I was born to kill Do what I gotta to eat a decent meal, brothers is starvin' Don't try to find a job, son, it's all about robbin' So don't be alarmed when we come through We supposed to, if you opposed to, get your face blown, dude Off the map 'cause I react, attack A brother wasn't blessed with wealth, so I act like that Drug dealin', only mess with shorties that's appealin' I'm frontin' on the world once I start 4-wheelin' 'Cause back on the 41st Side, we do it right Sippin' E&J, gettin' bent all night Yo, who that? I never seen him in my whole life Step to his business 'cause it's only right Po-po ain't around, so I grab my pound Money retaliated, so I hit the ground My life is on the line, gotta hold my projects down Can't see myself gettin' bodied by a clown Ass nigga that ain't even from my town Hit him up in the chest, now he's layin' man down Jetted up from under the benches, I started hearin' sirens I stopped firin', to cut ass like a diamond Jetted to the crib piece, what a relief Stashed the heat, then proceeded to peep Out the window, called my son, "Yo, son, we got beef" But no question, money had a problem so I solved him [Bridge: Prodigy] I got my mind on a stick-up, now it's time to get paid Thinkin' of ways to take loot already made There's crime in the air, ain't no time to be afraid Gimme yours or get laid Give up the goods or get sprayed [Verse 4: Prodigy] I got lots of love, for my crew that is No love for them other crews and rival kids All them outta-town niggas know what time it is And if they don't, they need to buy a watch, word up Caught up in the crossfire, get theyself hurt up While I be sippin' gin straight in a plastic cup On a park bench on 12th Street, my whole crew's famous You tried to bust your gat and keep it real, but you nameless First of all, slow down, you on the wrong route Let me put you on your feet and show you what's it all about The street life ain't nothin' to play with No jokes, no games, kid For years, I been doin' the same shit Just drinkin' liquor, doin' bids Extortin' crack heads, and stickin' up the stick-up kids
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